


Face in the Crowd

by Mauve_Avenger



Series: Detective Kaji [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauve_Avenger/pseuds/Mauve_Avenger
Summary: A serial killer obsessed with the folklore has resurfaced in Republic City, after 15 years. He has chosen  his latest victim. Detective Zuko Kaji is assigned to the case. Can he catch the killer before another life is lost?





	1. The Hunt is On

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when one of the Zutara Month Prompts I voted for loses, but I can't let the plot go. I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review!

**_Chapter 1_ **

 

_He hadn’t expected to be struck by inspiration so soon after his last project. She had no idea she had caught his attention. It wasn't unusual. Most people overlooked him, even the ones who spoke directly to him. He liked to think he was invisible. He wasn't, of course. Just careful. Especially with women. Women spooked more easily than men, he had learned. It didn't take much for them to put their  guard up. So he kept his distance until he was ready._

 

_There was a process to his art. First he found his muse.  This one  had served him his coffee at a diner. She had caught his eye immediately. She had the most beautiful velvety umber skin he had ever seen, and eyes that rivaled the blue of the tropical oceans. How could any artist look past her? He surely couldn't._

 

_The next step was to find out as much as he could about her. This part was easier than normal. She told him her name when she took his order. He had repeated it, tasting it like a new wine. She noted that she hadn't seen him around before, and he told her that he was just passing through on the way to nowhere in particular. When she asked for his name, he made one up. When she asked him about his work, he told her her was an artist. He turned the conversation to her._

 

_She was a graduate student at the University of Republic City. She had an apartment with her brother- an engineer who would be out of the country for the next few months. She didn't realize that she had given him all of that information, of course. It was amazing how much people let slip in a casual conversation. You just have to know how to listen. And he had spent years learning how to listen._

 

_After her shift ended, he followed her home. This part was easy. She hailed a cab, instead of waiting at the lonely bus stop in the dark. Neither she nor the cab driver saw him following. Even if she had turned around, it was too dark to see inside his car. When the cab pulled up outside of a nice townhouse he kept going, pulling into a parking spot a block away. The cab was gone when he doubled back on foot, and she had gone inside one of the houses, but he had gathered enough information on his newest project. Soon, he’d be ready to add her to his collection. He gazed up at the house he thought she had entered. The game had begun._

\-------

Detective Zuko Kaji knew something had happened the moment he stepped into the precinct.  There was no obvious change. Everyone was where they were supposed to be- working at their desks or chatting by the coffee pot or running back and forth from the records room. Then he noticed how quiet everyone was. The conversations were unusually muted, the way they tend to be whenever there's a particularly juicy piece of gossip   Eyes kept drifting towards the chief’s door. Zuko frowned. That door was hardly ever closed. The secretary noticed him and picked up the phone. A moment later she beckoned him over.

 

“The chief wants to see you,” Biyu told him. Her eyes were wide, and her voice low.

 

“Can it wait until I’ve gotten in the door?” Biyu shook her head.

 

“It’s serious,” she told him. “He’s expecting you.” Zuko sighed and made for the closed door.

 

“He  could at least let me grab some coffee first,” he grumbled before he went to see what his uncle wanted.

 

Iroh Kaji had implemented an open door policy when he became chief of police nearly fifteen years ago. He said he wanted all officers and detectives to feel welcomed to speak with him anytime. Since then, the door was rarely ever shut. When it was, it meant something serious had happened. The look on Iroh’s face when Zuko walked in confirmed that it was something awful.

 

“You wanted to see me chief?” Iroh nodded towards the door.

 

“Please leave it shut,” he said. “What I have to say is going to get out eventually, but I wanted to speak to you first.” Zuko closed the door and sat down across from him.

 

“What’s wrong, Uncle?” he asked. He prepared himself for terrible news. Was his father back? Had his sister found some new exciting form of trouble to get herself into?

 

“Koh is back,” Iroh told him plainly. Zuko blinked.

 

“How...how do you know? It’s been fifteen years. Why would he start again now?” Iroh sighed and ran his hands over his face. He suddenly looked every one of his fifty-one years and then some.

 

“His latest victim was found early this morning,” Iroh said. “We haven’t identified him yet, but the MO is the same. The body was ritualistically disposed by the river. He was naked and no personal belongings were found nearby, but there were no signs of sexual assault. And of course…”

 

“No face?” Zuko guessed grimly. Iroh grimaced and nodded.

 

“Surgically removed, just like the others.” A loud bang out on the street made both men jump. Iroh glanced over his shoulder out of the window and saw a beat up tan car stalled in the middle of the street. Smoke poured from beneath the hood. Iroh shook his head sympathetically, but there was nothing he could do about it just then. He turned back to his nephew. Zuko leaned forward on his elbows and tapped his knuckles against his teeth.

 

“What are our next steps?”

 

“We’ll need to identify the victim of course,” Iroh said. “I’ll have an officer look through missing recent missing persons. If Koh stays true to his MO, he will have had the poor man captive for at least a week, so we’ll have to begin there and adjust our search as necessary. We must also start a task force, which I’d like for you to head up.” Zuko’s good eye widened.

 

“ _Me_ ?” he asked. “I _just_ made detective two months ago. You want me to head up something this big?” Iroh nodded. He looked grave.

 

“I trust you with this.” Iroh steepled his fingers  and rested his forehead against them. “You know better than most on the force what Koh is capable of. The men and women who helped me the first time around are almost all gone. The ones still around are-understandably- not anxious to make this their last case before retirement.”

 

Zuko sat up straight and met his uncle’s eye. He knew that Iroh knew he was going to accept, still, he needed to ask-

 

“Have you considered that this might be seen as favoritism?” To Zuko’s surprise, Iroh chuckled.

 

“No one who has ever seen you work would ever doubt that anything but your talent made me choose you,” he said. “I will, of course, be here to advise should you need me.” Zuko nodded.

 

“Alright, Chief,” he said. He rose to his feet and stuck his hand out to Iroh. “I accept.”

 

From there, things moved quickly. Iroh called a department-wide conference and made the announcement that the oldest among them dreaded. The task force was assembled, and despite Zuko’s caution, no one had any objections to his being named head detective on this case. Soon, a board had been started, with all of the information of the latest case at the top of the board and a timeline of the nearly two decade old cold-cases falling in line beneath. The total came to eleven victims altogether.

 

“This guy is sick,” a rookie beat cop named Lee said with a low whistle.Zuko grunted in agreement.

 

“Very sick.” Lee leaned in towards Zuko and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

 

“Is it true that your uncle was the lead on this case the first time around?”  Zuko’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile.

 

“He co-lead,” he corrected. Zuko had been around eleven at the time of the first murder, and thirteen when Iroh had been added to the first task force. Zuko had in almost grown up with the case, especially once he had moved in with Iroh.

 

“Where do we even, begin?” Lee asked. He looked over the board full of victims. All but the first had pictures with their faces next to the crime scene photos of their corpses. Lee focused his gaze on these, but Zuko reached up and tapped the picture of the latest victim.

 

“We find out who he is. Give him his face back.” Lee nodded solemnly. “Then we make sure that this really is Koh.”

 

“How?” Lee asked. Zuko wanted to roll his eyes, but he reminded himself that Lee was very new, and he needed to be patient. Instead, Zuko gestured towards the board.

 

“Koh has never left behind a usable piece of evidence,” he explained, “but he leaves his signature at every crime.” Zuko ran his hand lightly across the evidence board, and his finger landed on a copy of a note. “He begins by stalking his victims. His first contact is usually a poem or a letter left for the victim, but we believe he stalks them for some time. Probably a few weeks, to learn their schedules. Then, he kidnaps them.”

 

“And then he kills them and cuts their faces off?” Lee looked at Zuko in horrified awe.  

 

“No,” Zuko said. “He keeps them for a few days. No one is sure why. There’s never any evidence of sexual assault, and they victims are usually in good condition. Well fed; clean; otherwise unharmed except, well…” Zuko motioned towards the faceless corpses. Lee shuddered.

 

“How does he kill them then?” Zuko’s brow furrowed at that.

 

“Most of them were strangled,” he replied. “A few of them died of shock.” Lee gasped.

 

“You mean, they’re a-alive when he....”  

 

“Yes,” Zuko confirmed with a sharp nod. “We believe he works in the medical field. All of his victims had traces of succinylcholine. It’s an anesthetic that paralyzes you, but keeps you awake.” Lee swallowed hard, and the blood drained from his face.

 

“Awake....?”  Zuko nodded.

 

“Awake.” Lee turned back to the board. He swallowed again against the bile rising in his throat.

 

“That’s horrible.” Zuko grunted his agreement.

 

“Which is why we need to catch this guy. Fast.”  Another officer poked her head in just then.

 

“Detective Kaji,” she greeted formally with a slight bow. “The Chief wants you in the interview room. It’s...um...urgent.”

 

“I’m on my way,” Zuko said. He lifted his chin towards Lee and went to his uncle. As he had been told, he was in the interview room. He wasn’t alone.

 

There was a young woman sitting across from him. Zuko paused for a moment at the door.

 

“You wanted to see me?” Zuko inclined his head slightly to his uncle, not acknowledging their guest yet. Iroh righted that immediately.

 

“This is Katara Imiq,” he said. “I’m afraid she has a very serious problem.” 

  
  



	2. Eyes on the Prize

**_Chapter 2_ **

 

Katara had started running a few days a week earlier that year.

 

Her advisor, Hama, had suggested it after Katara had broken down in tears in Hama's office over her school workload and the state of her relationship with her then boyfriend. Katara hated it at first, but she found as she kept at it, that she felt free as she ran. For those few miles, she could leave her problems behind her and the distance helped to put them in perspective. On this evening, however, the problems were ahead of her, though she didn’t realize it until she got home.

 

There was a cream envelope addressed to her and stuck to the door of the condo she shared with her brother. At first Katara thought it was an invitation to a party or a wedding, the paper was so nice. Inside was a card the same shade of cream as the envelope, and bordered with red flowers.

 

 _My dear Katara_ \- the note greeted. Katara frowned. She didn't recognize the handwriting. It stood in stark contrast to the lovely, expensive looking card. It was sloppy and scratchy and smudged, as if the author had accidentally dragged their hand through it. It made it difficult to read, but Katara tried.

 

_Watching from the shadows_

_As moonlight dances across your umber skin_

_One day I will take what’s mine_

_I bask in your light longing to see what’s within_

_Behind your eyes_

_Beneath your skin_

 

The poem was unsigned. Katara felt an uncomfortable chill run down her spine, and she glanced out of the window by the door. No one was in the street. Still Katara went around the first floor, checking the locks on the front and back doors, and the windows.

 

If anyone had asked, Katara wouldn’t have been able to explain why exactly the poem had left her so unsettled. Maybe it the messy, scrawling writing mixed with the fancy cardstock. It all felt like something she had seen before in a slasher film. Katara laughed at her paranoia as she checked the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She took out her phone and dialed her brother’s number, hoping that he was ready to wake up anyway.

 

“Why are you talking to _me_ right now?” Sokka demanded after Katara explained why she had woken him before dawn. “Call the cops! Get off the phone with me and call the cops. I’m _not_ kidding.”

 

“You're overreacting,” Katara said. Calling Sokka had worked to calm Katara’s nerves, just not the way she had hoped. Insead of reassuring his sister that the note was nothing to worry about, he sounded ready to hop on a plane and come home. Now Katara was trying to calm him down instead. She chuckled to herself.

 

“Are you _laughing_?” Sokka demanded. “This isn't a joke, Katara!”

 

“I’m _not_!” she lied. Katara forced down a smile. She switched her phone from one ear to the other, and dug through the refrigerator. All she had was leftovers from the diner where she worked, unless she wanted to cook. She absolutely did not want to cook.

 

“Katara,” Sokka said in his _I'm not budging_ tone, “some perv left a note _on the door_ . He knows where you live, and probably knows you’re alone. You _have_ to get the cops involved.” Katara rolled her eyes.

 

“And tell them what, exactly?” She stuck her noodles in the microwave, and leaned against the counter. “That some rando left a really bad  poem on my door? Awful writing isn't a crime. Anyway, it was probably just a prank. I bet Toph did it. She has a pretty twisted sense of humor.”

 

“First of all, Toph's blind. She can't _write_ anything-”

 

“-unless she had help-”

 

“-And second she isn't that subtle. She would bang on the door, or actually break in to scare you.” Sokka paused for a moment. “Do you think maybe Aang…?”

 

“No.” Katara cut him off firmly.

 

“Are you sure? I know you said he didn't take the break up very well. And he _is_ the type to write stupid poems…” Katara pulled the phone away from her ear and counted to ten before she replied.

 

“He wasn't happy,” she confirmed. “But he isn’t the type to leave anonymous creepy letters. He's an ethical vegan, for La's sake. He wouldn't have done...this.” Katara gestured to the open card on the table. Aang had been clingy and cloying as a boyfriend, but he wouldn't stoop to this. He might call. He  might show up in person pleading to speak to her. He had,in fact, done both immediately after she had broken up with him. This wasn’t his style.

 

“Besides,” Katara continued, “it’s not even his handwriting.”

 

“Fine,” Sokka huffed. “It wasn't him. That's even worse, Katara. Take. It. To. The. Cops!”

 

“There's nothing _to_ take to them!’ Katara insisted. “What do you expect them to do for me?”

 

“They could send extra patrols at night.” The microwave let out it's high pitched alert.

 

“Sokka, this is a safe neighborhood,” she said. She set her plate on the table. “There are security guards making rounds all the time. The cops already drive down the street a few times a night. How much more can they really do than that?”

 

“I don't know!” Sokka was beginning to sound frustrated. “But _something_ is better than nothing. _Urgh_! I wish Suki wasn't deployed. I'd feel so much better if you had a trained soldier with you.”

 

“ _Hey!”_ Katara protested around a mouthful of food. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Suki has weapons training.” Katara scowled

 

“I've been to a shooting range!” she defended herself.

 

“Sure,” Sokka snorted. “Like, what, maybe three or four times? In your entire life? Besides, you don't have a gun.” Katara dropped her chopsticks in disgust.

 

“You don't know what I have in my room!”

 

“Like I said…”

 

“Whatever.” Katara was getting annoyed.

 

“Can you have Toph stay with you?” Sokka suggested.

 

“She's going to visit her parents. She'll be gone all summer.” She may have left already, now that Katara thought about it. That meant she couldn't have been the one to leave the note. Katara chose not to let Sokka know that bit.

 

“Then what about Aang?” Katara arched an eyebrow.

 

“Weren't you _just_ accusing him of leaving the note in the first place?”

 

“You said he didn't,” Sokka said. “Tell me the truth. Do you think there's any chance he sent the note?”

 

“Of course not,” Katara sighed.

 

“Then ask him if he can hang out with you the next few days and scare this creep off.”  Katara leaned back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.

 

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to call my ex- my _vegan, pacifist_ ex- and ask him to hang out to scare off some idiot kid?” Katara rolled her eyes again. “Let me list all of the reasons _that's_ a stupid idea...”

 

“Well, it's better than nothing!” Sokka pressed. Katara's face scrunched up thoughtfully.

 

“Hmm, is it though?”

 

“Katara, be serious!”

 

“I'm seriously irritated,” she grumbled stabbing at her food. Sokka was silent for a moment .

 

“I can come home,” he offered. Katara bit back a gasp and nearly choked on a bit of meat.

She spat it out.

 

“Don't you dare!” she told him when she could breathe. “You worked so hard for this. I will _not_ let you give it up because I have a weirdo secret admirer.”

 

“Katara, you're more important to me than this stupid job-”

 

 _“Stupid job?”_ Katara pulled the phone away from her ear and gaped at it. “You're helping to build the new space station. _Stupid,_ this guy says!”

 

“I have vacation time coming up, anyway-”

 

“And you're planning to use it to see Suki!”  

 

“Katara…”

 

“Sokka…” She could almost hear Sokka pinching to the bridge of his nose. She bit her lip and grinned at the thought.

 

“Look,” he said. “You can't blame me for worrying. You're my favorite little sister-”

 

“-I’m your _only_ little sister-”

 

“ _-shut up_! You're the only family I've got left . I want to make sure you're safe.”

 

“I'm _fine,_ Sokka,” she said. “I promise, if anything else happens, I'll go straight to the cops” That mollified him. After a few more minutes of talking, the siblings hung up, and Katara went to finish up some school work before bed. The poem lay forgotten on the counter until the next morning.

\--------

On her way out of the door the next morning, Katara found another envelope on her door. There was no note this time, only pictures. She looked through with mounting horror at  images of her at the library a few days earlier; at the movies with some classmates the week before; getting into her car outside of the diner; with her key in the door of her home. All close ups that she knew she hadn't posed for or been aware of. This time she didn't hesitate. She got into her car-despite the awful noise it had been making lately- and tossed the anonymous poem was on the passenger seat beside her, along with the new envelope. Katara glanced at them and shuddered.

 

The car didn’t start the first time she turned the key in the ignition. Katara’s heart leapt up into her throat, and she looked around nervously. She felt for her phone and clutched it in her lap. The second time she turned the key her car let out a pitiful whine, but on the third try the engine turned over and Katara let out a dry sob of relief. The police station wasn’t too far from her house, but the threat of her car stalling out on the road away from help forced Katara to drive just below the speed limit. The ride, which should have taken fifteen minutes, took closer to thirty. Katara spent every moment glancing in her rearview for any sign of someone following her. No one seemed to be, but that didn’t make Katara feel better. Was whoever had taken those pictures back at her home waiting for her to return?

 

The station was finally in view.  Katara pressed on the gas anxiously, and her car lurched haltingly onto the block. She hit the breaks and came to a convulsive stop. As she reached for the key, a loud popping noise filled the car. Katara shrieked and ducked with her arms covering her head. Her pulse beat a loud tattoo in her ears. She glanced up carefully and stared uncomprehendingly at the smoke pouring out of the hood of her car. A tapping sound at the passenger side window  shook another startled yelp from her, and she turned, wild eyed, to the uniformed officer looking in at her in concern.

 

“Are you alright, miss?” Katara gaped at her.

 

“...um,” she mumbled. Then the car let out a last window rattling shudder, and then died. Katara met the officer’s eyes with a helpless shrug. “I...I’m going to need a tow.”

 

The officer called for a police tow immediately, and ushered Katara inside. Katara clutched the envelopes to her chest while the officer prepared her a tag so she would be able get her car out of impoundment. She stared around the station with detached interest. The air was buzzing with activity. A large number of officers were gathered in what seemed to be a meeting room where one dark haired detective standing at the front pointed to a wall full of photographs. Training, Katara thought.

 

“Here you go, Ms. Imiq,” the officer-Katara was too distracted to remember her name- handed her the slip of paper. She regarded Katara sympathetically. “I waived the towing fee for you, so, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Thanks,” Katara said quietly reaching out for the slip. She cleared her throat. “I...I actually needed to speak to...someone.” She held up the envelopes. “I found these at my house. I-”

 

“Oh!” The officer winced. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit of a wait. Please have a seat and I’ll send someone to take your-”

 

“There’s no need for that, Officer Han.” An aging man in a formal uniform approached the two women. He seemed nice, Katara thought, and far too grandfatherly to be working in a police station. He reached out a hand to Katara with a warm smile.  
  
“I’m Chief Iroh Kaji,” he told her.

 

“Katara Imiq.” Katara held up the envelopes for Iroh to see. “I think someone’s following me. I want to...” Her voice trailed off, and her shoulders sagged forward. Even as frightened as she was, she didn’t know what the police could do. She didn’t even have a guess who had sent her the poem and pictures.  She had seen enough procedural dramas, and listened to enough true crime podcasts to know that even if she _had_ known who had sent them, there was little the police could do unless her mysterious stalker physically did something to her or her property.

 

Iroh saw the crestfallen look on her face with concern. Whether he understood her discouragement or not, he took her hand and patted it sympathetically.

 

“Why don’t we see how we can help you,” he said kindly. He guided her past the conference room where the meeting seemed to be winding down. Iroh smiled at her, though now Katara noticed it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

 

“You caught us at kind of a busy moment,” he told Katara. He held open the door to a small interview room and motioned for her to enter. “But I can begin the process of taking your statement.”  

  
“Alright…” Katara settled into a hard plastic chair with her back straight. She laid the envelopes on the table and took out first the picture, and then the poem, and explained, “Someone left these at my house. I got the letter last night, and I was going to ignore it, but then I found the picture stuck to my door this morning and I…” Katara’s folded her shaking hands tightly and hid them on her lap under the table. Iroh’s face paled and drew tightly when he saw the handwriting. To Katara’s surprise, he almost leapt up from the table and flung the door open.

 

“Officer Han!” The officer who had helped Katara with her car hurried back over.

 

“Sir?”

 

“I need you to send Detective Kaji to me immediately,” Iroh told her. “And I need someone from forensics. Tell them to bring evidence bags.” Katara watched him with wide eyes. He turned back to her apologetically. “Please hold on a moment, my dear.”

Iroh stepped out and  left Katara staring after him in confusion. A man in rubber gloves and carrying two plastic baggies came in and put the envelopes and their contents into each one. He left scribbled something across the tops hastily and left without a word. The bags sat on the table. Iroh returned a few moments later, and settled back into his seat across from her with no explanation. The detective he had summoned arrived shortly after that.

 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked with a perfunctory glance at Katara. Iroh gestured towards Katara.

 

“This is Katara Imiq,” he said. “I’m afraid she has a very serious problem. Ms. Imiq, this is Detective Zuko Kaji.” Katara’s brows furrowed. She darted her gaze between them, and then spoke up.

 

“Look, I’m glad to see that your department takes stalking cases seriously, but this guy can’t really be worth the _chief’s_ time.” Zuko frowned and turned to Katara. Her eyes widened when she saw the scar over the left side of his face, and she quickly dropped her gaze. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulder, hiding her face as she gathered herself. Zuko snorted lightly. He was used to that reaction when people first met him.

 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more urgent than that,” Iroh told her apologetically. “Zuko, I believe Ms. Imiq has had the misfortune of being contacted by...our friend.” He slid the poem and photo Katara had brought in, now in sealed evidence bags, across the table. Zuko’s eyes widened as he read the poem.

 

“Koh?” he whispered. “So soon? It can’t be.” Iroh nodded.

 

“I’m afraid so.” Katara looked between the two men with a growing sense of confusion and worry.

 

“I’m sorry, _Koh_?” she said. “As in the face-stealer spirit? As in the ghost  story my dad used to tell my brother and me around the campfire when we were kids?” Iroh turned to Katara grimly.

 

“I’m afraid this is no spirit,” he told her. “The Koh we are referring to is altogether too human.”

“He’s a serial killer,” Zuko said bluntly. “And it looks like he’s chosen you as  his next victim.” Katara gasped.

 

“Zuko,” Iroh chided.

 

“What?” Zuko demanded. “She deserves to know what she’s up against.”

 

“Up against?” Katara gaped at him. “What does he want with _me_?”  Zuko turned to her, feeling sympathy well up in his gut.

 

“Nothing good.” He hurriedly assured her, “But you did the right thing coming to us.” Katara slumped back in her seat.

 

“But why me?” she murmured. “I’ve never even...how does he....”

 

“He seems to choose his victims at random,” Iroh explained apologetically. “He’s killed men and women of all different  ages, looks, and backgrounds...You could have run into him anywhere. You mentioned you were a waitress and a student? Plenty of chances for him to have noticed you.” Katara’s face had gone ashen.

 

“What is he going to…” her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat. “What does he do to his victims?” Iroh and Zuko exchanged glances.

 

“He...collects faces,” Zuko told her. Katara’s eyes went as wide as saucers before she ducked her head to her lap. Zuko was worried she was about to pass out. Iroh seemed to share the concern. He picked up the phone and asked Biyu to bring a few bottles of water. Zuko crouched at Katara’s side and rubbed her shoulders.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” he promised. “We’re going to catch him before he has a chance to hurt you.”  Katara nodded weakly and accepted the water from Iroh.

 

“Do you have any friends who you can stay with?” Iroh asked. “Or family?” Katara choked back a sob and shook her head.

 

“My-most of my friends are gone for the summer,” she explained. “And my brother is in Ba Sing Se for the next few months.”

“Can you go stay with him?”

 

“I have summer classes starting soon,” she explained. “I’m up for a TA position this fall, and my dissertation is due next spring. If I leave...all my work…” Katara cleared her throat. “Besides, my brother is working on a military compound. No civilians allowed.”

 

“Parents?” Iroh pressed. Katara let out a humourless laugh.

  
“Both dead.” Her voice was thick with tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She and Sokka had already been through so many tragedies far too early in life. They weren’t supposed to deal with... this.  She groped blindly for her phone. “I...I have to call my brother…”

 

“In due time, my dear,” Iroh promised. “First we need to figure out how to keep you safe.” Katara sagged against the back of her chair and shrugged. She was exhausted, and her day had just begun.

 

“What’s the plan?”

 

“Obviously, you’ll need police protection,” Iroh said. “We can arrange to have uniformed officers patrolling your block every twenty minutes until we catch Koh. In addition, Detective Kaji-” Iroh nodded towards Zuko- “or myself will be checking in on you regularly. Of course we will need your schedule.” Katara looked up at Zuko, and then turned back to Iroh.

 

“And...that will be enough to keep him away from me?” she asked uncertainly. Iroh stroked his beard pensively before he replied.

 

“It should be sufficient,” he said. “We have never had one of his victims come in. I am confident that we will not only be able to keep you safe, but capture Koh as well.”

 

“Alright.” Katara took a deep breath, and sat up, gripping the arms of her chair. “Alright. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

 

Katara gave the two men her official statement. It didn’t take long. In spite of the abject horror of the morning, Katara didn’t have much to tell them. When she was done, she looked at the two sheepishly.

 

“Any chance I can get a ride home?” she asked. Iroh slapped his nephew on the back.

 

“I’m sure Detective Kaji would be happy to,” he said.

\----------

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Pickled Cabbage and Scarlet Fish

 

**_Chapter 3_ **

 

 

Katara’s neighborhood was nice, Zuko noticed. It wasn’t a gated community, but he had seen a few security kiosks, which he made a note to stop by later. The house itself was a brick-faced rowhouse with an iron fence separating the small, well-kept lawn. The fence was meant for show. There was no lock on it, only a latch. It only came up to about Zuko’s neck, so even if it  _ had _ a lock, there was nothing to stop an intruder from scaling it. It was a solidly upper-middle-class home built for and by people who neither feared the type of crime prevalent in poorer areas, nor had the paranoia of the rich protecting their hoard.

 

“This is a nice place on a waitress’ salary,” Zuko commented.  Katara turned the key and pushed the door open. 

  
  


“It’s my brother’s place,” she said with an off-hand shrug. “I just live here.” Zuko raised his good eyebrow.

 

“It’s pretty nice for a soldier’s salary, too.” Katara turned to him, her nose wrinkled in confusion, her sweater halfway off. 

 

“What?” she asked. “My brother isn’t a soldier.” Now Zuko was confused. 

 

“I thought you said he was in Ba Sing Se with the military.” Understanding dawned on Katara’s face.    
  
“Oh! Yeah, he is, but he’s not military,” she explained. “He’s an aerospace engineer. Private contractor. He’s just working with the International Aeronautics and Space Agency.  Sokka’s crazy smart. He’s helping to build the new space station.” 

 

“That’s...impressive,” Zuko said. Katara smiled proudly and nodded.    
  
“He thinks so, too.” She pulled her phone out of her bag. She motioned to the kitchen. “Please help yourself to anything in the fridge. Oh! Except the fruit tart. That’s my reward for holding it together through this nightmare of a day.” 

 

“Thanks,” Zuko grunted. He turned to the front door and examined the locks.  Katara paused a moment, waiting for...she wasn’t sure what exactly. Detective Zuko Kaji was not a chatterbox. Katara huffed and went to go make her phone call. 

 

As she expected, Sokka did not react well to the news. 

 

“ _ What _ ?” he shrieked. ‘Katara, a freaking  _ serial killer  _ is after you?” Katara rubbed her temple with her free hand. 

 

“It’s under control, Sokka,” she told him.”There’s going to be patrols on the block all night every night until Koh is caught. There’s even a detective here as we speak. You got your wish after all.” Sokka didn’t rise to the bait. He sighed and was quiet for a few moments. 

 

“I’m coming home,” he said at last. Katara fidgeted, and bounced on her feet. 

 

“No, don’t, Sokka,” she pleaded. “I’m alright. Really! You’ve worked so hard for this-”   
  


“Katara, I don’t care!” She had to pull the phone away from her ear, but she could still hear everything he said. “Some psychotic killer is after you. I’m not letting you deal with that alone. I’ll let my boss know that I’ve got a family emergency, and I’ll be on the first flight  I can catch. I’m not arguing with you about this.”

 

“Fine…” Katara grumbled. “You win.' Sokka’s tone softened. 

 

“Hey, don’t worry,” he assured her. “It’s not like they're going to fire me. Most of the ideas we’re using are mine. They’ve been bending over backwards to make sure I’m happy here. They’ll let me have a couple of weeks to make sure my sister’s okay.” Guilt made Katara’s stomach clench. She did want her brother home, but not at the expense of his dream. Still, she knew that if their positions had been reversed, she’d want to be there for him, too. 

 

“Okay,” she relented at last. “I guess the IASA didn’t hire you for your humility, huh?” Sokka snorted. 

 

“It ain’t bragging if ya done it!” He paused for a moment. “Hey, you said there’s a detective there with you?” 

 

“Yeah? He's in the kitchen, I think.”    
  


“Let me speak to him,” he said. 

 

“What on earth for?” Katara asked.

 

“Just do it, you brat.” Katara rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen. Zuko’s brow furrowed when she held her phone out to him. 

 

“Mr. Big-Shot-Genius want to talk to you.” Zuko took the phone hesitantly. 

 

“O~kay,” he said. “...hello? This is Detective Kaji.”

 

“Yeah, yeah...hey, hi, hello,” Sokka greeted. “Look, I need to know what you’re doing to make sure my sister doesn’t die.”  Zuko rolled his eyes and shot an accusatory look at Katara. She just shrugged. 

 

“We have it under control,” Zuko promised his charge’s brother. 

 

“Do you have a gun?” Sokka asked. “Because Katara does  _ not _ have a gun. No matter what she’s told you.” Zuko pressed his thumb in the space between his eye and nose. 

 

“Please don’t worry about that. Our best officers will be patrolling the block.” 

 

“And how many will be posted outside the door?” Sokka pressed. “Who’s going to be driving her to work? Her car is an absolute piece of crap that doesn’t work six days of seven.  _ Do not _ let her drive it.”

 

“Mr. Imiq-” Katara looked up from where she was getting some water. She bit the inside of her lips in an ultimately fruitless attempt to hide her amusement.   
  


“I  _ have _ offered to buy her a new one, you know, but no~o! Miss Independent  _  insists _ on paying for her own. Whatever. I don't care. I’m absolutely getting her a car as soon as I get home-”

 

“ _ Sir- _ ” 

 

“And do you have the pull to get the diner to take Katara off of the night shifts? Because, if not, tell her to quit. She  _ might _ actually listen to someone with a badge if her life is on the line. Maybe...”   
  


“ _ Sokka!” _ Katara nearly dropped her glass of water in surprise, but Zuko didn’t care. Sokka had finally stopped talking. “The entire Republic City Police Department is motivated to see this guy behind bars. I promise, your sister is in good hands. We will update you regularly, and if anything happens, you will be the first to know.” 

 

“Sheesh,” Sokka said. “Alright. One more thing. That’s my little sister you’ve got. I’m trusting you to keep her alive until I can get home. Got it?” Zuko’s lips tightened into a thin line. He heard his uncle in the back of his mind urging patience.

 

“I got it,” he said. He handed the phone back to Katara, and moved into the living room. Clearly, Katara thought, he had reached his daily word limit. She said her goodbyes to Sokka and followed Zuko.

 

The detective was at the front window staring at the sign  declaring that this property was protected by the Bei Fong security system. Zuko glanced back at her. 

 

“You have a security system?” he asked. “That’s great.” Katara chuckled nervously.

 

“Um...actually,” she began, “that’s just for show. My friend’s family owns that company. She gave it to us to put in the window. She...ah... said that it was the next best thing to actually having a security system.” 

 

Zuko tried to remind himself that Katara was facing a very extreme situation. One that most people using the security sign in the window bluff would never face. He tried to remember that she was scared, and stressed, and that if it got back to his uncle that he yelled at her for using that stupid trick, there would be trouble. Still….

 

“I’m sure your very scary sign would give Koh a least a couple moments’ pause,” he said drily. Katara scowled at him.

 

“You don’t have to be rude, guy,” she muttered. 

 

“That's 'Detective.” Katara sneered at him. Zuko was certain that she only  _ just  _ stopped herself from sticking her tongue at him.

 

_ 'Detective  _ Guy.”

  
“Whatever.” Zuko turned his attention to the locks on the windows. They were sturdy at least. Not easily broken. “Why not just go ahead and get the security system? If your friend’s parents own the company, I’m sure she could have gotten you a deal.” Katara shrugged. They went to the den at the back of the house. Katara had put a wooden plank in the door to stop it from running on its track, even if the lock were somehow pried open. It was, in Zuko’s opinion, a much more effective defense than the fake security badge in the front window. 

 

“Sokka and I are hardly ever home,” she explained. “Between his job, and my job  _ and _ school, we couldn’t commit to being home to let them install it. This was easier.” She motioned towards the shield shaped window decal carelessly. “How were we supposed to know there was a serial killer on the loose?” 

 

That made a flawed sort of sense, Zuko admitted to himself. He finished checking the first floor, then moved on to the second. The townhouse's downstairs had a comfortable, if straight forward design. The furniture was chosen for comfort and utility rather than style, and was so distinctly masculine, that Zuko assumed that Sokka Imiq had chosen it all. When he saw the siblings’ bedrooms, his suspicions seemed to be confirmed. Sokka’s room had a twin sized bed and a non-descript dresser and desk. Most of the useable surfaces were covered in what Zuko took to be projects of some kind. He had to pick his way carefully past blueprints, tools and half-completed...were those robots?...to get to the window. 

 

Katara’s room was like entering a completely different home. It was neat and organized, and there was art all over the walls. Everything was done in shades of blues, greens and the occasional splashes of purple and white- the color of Sokka’s room hadn’t even registered to Zuko. There were various pieces of kitsch all around, from  the koala-cat lamp on the bedside table, to the statuettes of sea creatures doing random jobs standing sentry on the purple bookshelf. Her desk was the messiest area in the room, but even there Zuko could see the organization among the chaos of papers, books and laptop accessories. 

 

Her window faced the backyard, Zuko noted with consternation. The yard was separated from their neighbors on the opposite side by a narrow strip of grassy alley. There was no way the patrol vehicles would be able to see the back of the house from the street. Zuko checked the window lock and considered the problem. Maybe Katara could sleep in Sokka’s room. After speaking to the man on the phone, Zuko didn’t think he’d care if Katara accidently upset any of his work. 

 

“Are you hungry, Detective?” Zuko spun towards the open door. He hadn’t heard Katara coming up the stairs. He wondered if she was trying to sneak up on him, or just incredibly light on her feet. She looked up at him guilelessly. Zuko released a breath and shook his head.

 

“What?” 

 

“Are you hungry?” Katara repeated. “I’m about to fix lunch. It seemed rude to not offer you something.” Zuko shook his head, and turned back to the window

 

“I’m fine,” he said. Katara didn’t leave immediately. When Zuko glanced back over his shoulder, she was eyeing the different corners of her room. She seemed...lost. Zuko groaned internally. Comforting people was  _ not _ his strong suit. Usually, his victims were dead by the time their cases were assigned to him, and he rarely dealt directly with their families and friends. This was new territory for him. 

 

“A-are you alright?” he asked. Then he slapped his forehead. Katara blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. Of  _ course  _ you’re not alright.”

 

“Well, I-”

 

“You’re  _ going  _ to be alright,” Zuko promised, cutting off whatever she had been about to say. Katara wrapped her arms around her middle, and dropped her gaze to the fluffy navy blue carpet beneath her feet. 

 

“I-I know,” she said quietly. “It’s just...this kind of thing...it doesn’t happen to people in real life. Not to people like me. I’m...I don’t know...boring, I guess. I’m not supposed to be on some serial killer’s hit list.”

 

Zuko’s first instinct was to assure her that she wasn’t boring. Or at least she didn’t  _ seem _ boring to him. But he had only met her a couple of hours ago. How would he know? 

 

“It’s not your fault he picked you,” he said instead. “Koh’s a psychopath. He kills because he wants to. It's nothing to do with  who you are personally.” That seemed to be the right thing to say. Or at least, it didn’t make her feel worse, Zuko thought. Katara dropped her arms to her sides, and sighed.

 

“Still, I wish I knew why he picked  _ me _ of all people,” she admitted. Zuko placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

“I’ll ask for you when we catch him,” he promised. “Now, you mentioned something about lunch?” Katara rolled her eyes. 

 

“I’m not even hungry anymore,” she told him. He  led her towards the stairs. 

  
“Well, now  _ I _ am,” he said. “How about I fix us some sandwiches? And maybe some tea. Do you like tea?” 

 

“I prefer coffee, honestly.” 

 

“Then I’ll make coffee.” Katara paused on the stairs behind him. Zuko looked back and she had a hint of a smirk on her face. 

 

“Is this how detectives treat  _ all _ crime victims?” she asked. “Or just the ones with serial killer stalkers?” 

 

“Just the ones who aren’t irritating,” Zuko told her, completely deadpan. Katara stared at him for a moment, and then laughed incredulously. 

\-------

“Be reasonable! I can’t not go to work!” Zuko gritted his teeth and held the phone away from his face as he counted slowly. 

 

“I am not saying don’t go to work,” he said with slow deliberate syllables. “All I am saying is that you can't take the bus. You need to an escort. There is a serial killer after you, in case you forgot.” Katara snorted on the other end. 

 

“O~kay,” she drawled. “So, tell me, Detective Kaji, when can I expect my escort? Don’t forget, I told you while you were here that I had a shift tonight. You do remember me saying that, right?” 

 

“...yes.” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what it would take to get another detective to take over with Katara. 

 

“Great! So, why isn’t the escort, that  _ you _ insisted I have, here to get me in time for my shift?” There was a long drawn out pause. After a moment, Zuko heard Katara let out a long suffering sigh. “You forgot about sending someone for me, didn’t you?” 

 

“Of course not!” he lied. “I’m on my way. I just got held up at work.” Fortunately, Zuko was off duty and not too far from Katara’s. He swung his car around and sped off down the street with his light flashing and sirens off. 

 

“Alright…” Katara didn’t sound convinced. Zuko scowled, not sure if he was more annoyed with her or himself. He concluded that it was probably about even.

 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight.” Zuko hung up and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. Now he turned on the sirens as he weaved through the early evening traffic. He turned them off when he got to Katara’s neighborhood. No need to let her know how big of a rush he had been in. She was sitting on the front stoop, elbows on her legs and chin resting on her fists,  when he pulled up. 

 

“If I’m late,” she told him when she got into his car, “you get to why explain to Aunt Wu.” Zuko frowned at her. 

 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any family in town.” Katara waved him off, and motioned for him to drive. 

 

“She’s not my family,” she explained. “Everyone calls her Aunt Wu. The diner is called Aunt Wu’s. Come  _ on _ ! I’m supposed to clock in in ten minutes, and she will  _ freak  _ if I'm late.” 

 

Despite Katara’s rush and her warning about Aunt Wu’s intolerance for tardiness, the woman herself was unconcerned with Katara being a few minutes late. When she learned who Zuko was and why he had escorted her, though, she was extremely concerned. 

 

“You’ll be staying for the whole shift, I’m sure,” she said rather than asked Zuko. Katara turned to him with a raised brow. 

 

“I’m sure he’s arranged for another officer to take me home...right?” Surely Zuko hadn’t planned on sticking around for the entirety of Katara’s six hour shift. But to her surprise, Zuko- a bit flushed and shamefaced- nodded his head yes. Aunt Wu seemed relieved by the news. 

 

“Honestly, I’d let you stay with me, dear,” she told Katara apologetically. “But you know I live in that shoebox studio in midtown.” She turned to Zuko and explained, “Oh, it’s not that I can’t  _ afford _ anything bigger. It’s just, I'm an old  woman on my own, and I never have company. I didn’t see the point of paying for anything bigger. Though, now I suppose I should consider it-”

 

“Aunt Wu,” Katara cut in to Zuko’s immense relief. “I’m going to clock in now.” Aunt Wu waved her on. 

 

“Yes, yes, dear! Of course. I was just on my way out, actually. Unless you think I should stay…?”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Zuko assured her firmly. Aunt Wu nodded and pulled Katara into a tight hug.

 

“Yiyi is closing tonight,” she told Katara. “I’ll let her know what’s going on, and if you need anything, you tell her to call me right away.” 

 

“Ah...thanks, Aunt Wu.” Katara pulled away as gently as she could. She tried to smile at her boss, but even she knew it was strained. The last thing she wanted was all of her coworkers making a fuss. At that moment, she was more annoyed at Koh than afraid of him. 

 

“That’s fine, Aunt Wu.” Zuko placed his hand on her elbow, and led the older woman towards the door. “It’s actually better that as few people as possible know what’s going on. We don’t want to start a panic and disrupt your business.” Aunt Wu’s eyes widened. She hadn’t considered either of those possibilities. 

 

“Oh, well...if you’re sure-”

 

“Positive,” Zuko said. Aunt Wu paused by the door and glanced back at where Katara was throwing an apron over her green dress uniform. 

 

“You take good care of her,” she instructed Zuko. “She’s a good egg, and I won’t have some monster ruining all the work she’s done to get through grad school.” Katara grinned at her.

 

“I love you, too!” she called after Aunt Wu.

 

“I never said that,” Aunt Wu snapped. She turned back one more time. “Detective-” Zuko stood up a little taller, “-anything you have tonight is in the house.” 

 

“Um... thanks.” With that Aunt Wu was gone. Katara stowed her jacket in her locker. 

 

“I need you around every time I'm running late,’ she said, throwing Zuko a smirk over her shoulder. “I think she likes you.” Zuko reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“She's... interesting.” 

 

“That was nothing.” Katara  grinned at Zuko before she flipped her hair over and gathered her wealth of chestnut brown hair into her hands.

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

“What's it look like?” Katara righted herself and pulled a hair tie around the base of the ponytail. “Whew! Alright. Let's go. I'll put you in my section.”

 

The first few of hours of Katara's shift were uneventful. Zuko was grateful that he had a book in his car he could pass the time with. Katara stopped by a couple of times bringing a pot of tea, and later a full meal. None of her co-workers seemed to find anything odd with him being there so long. Zuko noticed a few other patrons camped out at tables surrounded by books, papers and laptops, and he understood. The university was nearby, after all.

 

It was about halfway through the shift when Zuko noticed one diner paying too much attention to Katara, even considering the diners who clearly came in to try to chat up the attractive waitstaff (Aunt Wu was clearly going for an aesthetic).  It was typical, pushy male behavior at first. He made sloppy attempts to flirt with Katara, but she seemed more than capable of handling him herself, so Zuko stayed out of it. The man watched Katara leave as she went to go hand his order in to the kitchen. Then he slid his phone out of his pocket and started taking pictures of her. That caught Zuko’s attention. His eyes narrowed as he watched the man closer. 

 

He was young. Around Zuko’s age. Twenty five or six at most. He had messy brown hair and carefully curated stubble on his chin. He was cocky. This didn’t seem much like the profile that had been worked up for Koh, but it was possible that Koh had never been after Katara, and it had been this man all along. When the man left his seat and surreptitiously followed Katara towards the employee break room, Zuko went after him. 

 

Katara turned with a shriek when she heard the thudding of Zuko throwing the man against the wall. He had the patron’s arm twisted and pinned behind his back. The man grunted and pushed against Zuko futilely. 

 

“What’s going on?” Katara gasped. She looked from Zuko to the patron,not sure who to direct her annoyance at. 

“Get off of me!” the man demanded. “I was just looking for the bathroom!” 

 

“Sure, pal,” Zuko growled. He yanked the man away from the wall and pushed him into the break room onto a chair. Fortunately, the hall leading to the break room wasn’t immediately visible from the dining room, so no one had seen what had just happened. Katara shut the door to ensure that it stayed that way. 

 

“What’s going on?” Katara asked again. She frowned at the overly flirtatious customer she had just left. He glared up at Zuko.

 

“That’s what  _ I  _  want to know.”  He tried to jump out of the seat, but Zuko forced him back down, pulling out his badge in the same movement. 

 

“I’ll ask the questions,” he told the man and Katara. “What’s your name?”  The man snorted. 

 

“None of your business.”  Zuko glared at the man stonily. He took out his cell phone.

 

“We can do this here or at the station after you’ve been processed. What. Is. Your. Name?” The man sized Zuko up, his eyes drifting from the badge, to the phone, to the telltale bulge of a gun beneath Zuko’s leather jacket, to the dark scowl on his scarred  face. Whatever snarky reply he had loaded he seemed to think better of. He huffed in disgust. 

 

“Jet Tang,” he mumbled. 

 

“Alright Jet Tang.” Zuko hovered over Jet, a threat evident in every syllable and movement. “Why were you taking pictures of her?” He motioned towards Katara with his head. Katara gasped again. Jet sputtered and protested. 

 

“I wasn’t-” 

 

“If you want, I we can go down to the station right now, and I can get a warrant to look in your phone.” Jet threw his hands up and groaned.

 

'Look, man, I was just…” He unlocked his phone and showed it to Zuko. “See? I just sent it to my friends.” Zuko took it and scrolled through the messages Jet had sent to his friends about the hot waitress he was determined to make his next conquest. Jet scowled up at him. “Can I go now?” 

 

“No,” Zuko told him. “Unfortunately for you, you just put yourself in the middle of an ongoing investigation.” Jet’s mouth fell open. He looked from Zuko to Katara and sputtered angrily. 

 

“Wh-what are you ...what investigation? Who even  _ are  _ you?” 

 

“My future parole officer if I ever catch you near me again.” Katara folded her arms and glared at Jet stonily. He had been awful from the moment he sat down in her section. To find out now that he had been taking pictures of her without her consent had stoked a rage in her that was further fueled by the pictures she had received earlier that day. She couldn't believe  _ this  _ was the guy who had everyone so worked up.

 

“You’re coming to the station with me,” Zuko told Jet. “I have some questions for you.”  To keep from causing too much of a scene, Zuko didn’t put handcuffs on him. With a promise to send a uniformed officer to take Katara home, he left Aunt Wu’s diner.

 

“Make sure the next guy is on time!” Katara called after him.

\-------

_ She had gone to the police. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it  _ **_was_ ** _ the first time the police had taken a complaint so seriously. Koh wondered if he had moved too quickly by sending the pictures. His studio wasn't quite ready  yet, after all. But the look of fear and confusion on her lovely face that morning had been worth it. _

 

_ There were already more police around her home, and one detective had even spent the better part of the day with her. This would make things more difficult. More challenging. More fun. It would simply be a matter of finding the weak points in the police detail now surrounding Katara. That shouldn’t be  _ **_too_ ** _ difficult, Koh smirked to himself.  _

 

_ He watched the detective lead a man to his car and guide him into the backseat. He drove off, leaving Katara behind at the diner. From his position across the road, hidden by the shadows of the broken street lamp, Koh took his camera out and peered through the viewfinder. She was talking with another waitress, her expressive mouth split into a grin before she threw her head back and laughed. Koh snapped a picture of the moment.  _

 

_ Disappointment welled in the pit of his stomach as he scrolled through the evening’s pictures. They were all missing that extra something that drew Koh to Katara. They were flat and lifeless compared to the real thing. It was no matter, though. Soon he would have the real thing.  But not tonight. _

\-------


	4. Something New

**_Chapter 4_ **

 

Fortunately for Katara, she didn’t need to be on campus for the next few days. Unfortunately, she was supposed to spend her time only in places that were easily patrolled. This fact was stated in no uncertain terms by Zuko who had stopped by the next morning while Katara was out for her run.

 

He was standing on the stoop when she rounded the corner, arms crossed over his chest and a dark glare on his face. Katara had an uncomfortable flashback to the times her father had caught her sneaking in well after curfew. Her steps faltered, but she squared her shoulders and met Zuko’s eyes.

 

“Detective Kaji,” she greeted him. ‘What are you doing here so early?”

 

“ _What am_ **_I_ ** _doing here?_ ” Zuko’s hands went to his hips, and Katara bit back a sigh. This looked like a lecture. “Where were _you_?” Katara motioned to her leggings, bright fuchsia tank, and running shoes.

 

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” she told him drily.

 

“So, you just decided to get up at dawn and go running alone,” Zuko demanded. “You didn’t see a need to let anyone know? Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”  

 

“It’s not like I was on some dark secluded path,” Katara defended herself. She brushed past him and let them both in the house. “I went to the running trail at the park. There were people everywhere! And I _never_ get up at dawn.” Zuko stood firm.

 

“Not the point,” he said. “No one knew where you were. No one saw you leave. _Anything_ could have happened to you.” Katara made a face at him and raised her wrist to check her fitness tracker. She had run  three miles, she saw with a distant sense of pride. That was a new record for her. She hit a button to send the information to her phone.

 

“It’s not my fault that the cops _you_ sent aren’t paying enough attention to notice when I leave,” she grumbled.

 

“Again,” Zuko said with an annoyed scowl. “Not. The. Point. We’re trying to keep you safe, Ms. Imiq.  It’s hard to do when you up and disappear without a word.”

 

“Alright!” Katara threw her hands up in submission. “I get it. I promise I will flag down an officer next time I go running or make trip to the supermarket.”

 

“It would actually be better if you stayed home unless someone can take you.” Katara started to protest, but Zuko held his hand up. “You don’t have a car right now. It’s not safe for you to walk around alone.” Katara rolled her eyes so hard, Zuko was worried she would hurt herself.

 

“Fine,” she relented. “Then you have to give me someone’s number or something.” Zuko shook his head.

 

“Just call me. I’ll send someone for you.”  Katara huffed irritably.

 

“I feel like a child,” she complained. “I _hate_ this  guy. Didn’t you get anything from him last night?” Zuko blanched, suddenly understanding why Katara had felt secure enough to leave that morning.

 

“Ms. Imiq,” he said slowly. “Jet's _not_ our guy.” Katara waved him off.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. There's no way that moron is a serial killer. But _maybe_ Koh's not actually after me at all. Maybe it _was_ just some idiot with a crush. _What?”_  Zuko had started shaking his head. Katara crossed her arms and scowled.

 

“Jet didn't take those pictures,” he explained. “He couldn't have. He just got to town yesterday. His alibi checked out. Whoever sent you that note and those pictures is still out there.” Katara stared at him for a moment. She sank back against the wall and then dropped her gaze to floor beneath his feet.

 

“And you're absolutely sure it's Koh?” The question was quiet, but it hung heavy in the air. Zuko shut his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Katara's eyes were fixed on him. He nearly flinched at the ice cold focus. He felt frozen to the spot. Finally, he nodded.

 

“The MO fits,” he told her, looking away from her frigid blue eyes. “Mostly. Usually, he's been in contact again by now, but with the increased patrols, he probably hasn't had a chance.” Katara snorted and mouthed the word _probably_ to herself.

 

“How close are you to catching him?” The ice was melting, and Katara looked far too vulnerable. Zuko shifted uneasily. This was _really_ not his area of expertise.

 

“Not close enough,” he admitted. “But he can't get close enough to you either.” Katara bit her bottom lip and nodded.

 

“Right,” she mumbled. She tried to feel grateful for  all that the police were doing for her, but she didn't know how long she could live this way. And, of course, the police would eventually have to move on, whether they caught the guy or not. Would Koh still be there waiting for her when they decided she was safe alone?

 

“Hey, look,” Zuko started hesitantly, running a hand through his hair. “I go running a few times a week. I know you'd probably rather go alone, but until we be catch Koh, maybe...maybe I can be your running partner?”

 

Katara furrowed her brows and she scrutinized Zuko. He shifted beneath her gaze, but his offer was sincere. If she was looking for a sign it wasn't, she wouldn't find it.

 

“You think you can keep up, Detective Kaji?” she asked at last, a weak hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Zuko met her with a smirk.

 

“Can _you_?” Katara's eyes widened slightly, and she suddenly pushed off the wall and went to the kitchen. She cleared her throat.

 

“My brother called,” she said. Zuko took that as a sign that she expected him to follow. “He can't get a flight until tomorrow evening, but he'll be here the next morning.”

 

“Did you want him to run with you instead?” Zuko asked. He was reeling a bit from the abrupt change of subject. Katara smiled wryly.

 

“Sokka _hates_ running. You aren't getting off the hook _that_ easy.” She got herself a glass of water and sat on a stool. “What time do you have to be to work?”

 

“I’m technically already at work,” he said. “Uncle-er the Chief, that is- said your case is my priority.”

 

“Oh…” Katara flinched. She pulled the end of her long braid over her shoulder and fiddled with the end. “You can call me Katara, you know.”

 

“Excuse me?” Zuko had never known anyone who changed subjects so abruptly. Katara shrugged, rapping her fingers erratically on the counter.

 

“You keep calling me Ms. Imiq. You don’t have to.”

 

“Right….” Zuko  nodded. “You can call me Zuko, then.” Katara smiled hesitantly.

 

“Alright...Zuko.” Then she jumped off of the stool. Zuko blinked in surprise.

 

“Are you…” Katara spun towards him.

 

“I need coffee,” she said. “You want any?”  Zuko shook his head.

 

“I'd love some,” he said. “But I do need to leave soon. I just came by to check on you.”

 

“I have travel mugs.” Katara reached into the cabinet above the coffee machine and pulled out a tall purple floral mug with a top.

 

“Then sure,” Zuko relented. Katara prepared their coffee. She looked in the refrigerator for the creamer and sighed. The creamer and a half-carton of eggs were almost all she had left

 

“I need to go  shopping,” she said mostly to herself.

 

“When do you want to go?” Zuko was standing behind her. Katara stood up quickly, hitting her head on the edge of the freezer door.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Sorry!” Zuko stepped back and let Katara shut the door. “You alright?”

 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Katara’s face burned hotly. “Um…”

 

“You need to go shopping?” Zuko prompted.

 

“Right!” Katara flinched at her overly bright voice. “Yes. Um...can you send someone for me around two?” Zuko nodded.

 

“No problem. I’ll send an officer for you.” Katara shot Zuko a wavering smirk.

 

“Will _this_ one be on time?” Zuko favored her with a deadpan gaze.

 

“Are you ever going to let that go?” he asked.

 

“I’ll consider it,” Katara replied, folding her arms across her chest. Her smile had turned sardonic. “You know, once I can leave this house on my own.”  Zuko stood up straight and placed his hand over his heart.

 

“I solemnly promise the officer will be on time,” he said sarcastically. Katara let out a snort of laughter.

 

“Alright. Cool.” She leaned against the island and studied Zuko for a moment. He sat down on the other side and busied himself with his phone. “Do you live around here, Zuko?”

 

“Pardon?” Zuko looked up from his screen. His good brow furrowed in confusion. Katara shrugged. She tucked a hand beneath her chin, rapping her fingers against the smooth granite.

 

“I’m just curious,” she explained. “And I need a distraction. Plus, it’s weird for me to sit at a table with someone and _not_ chat, you know?” Zuko shook his head.

 

“No,” he said. “I’m not a big talker.” Katara frowned and dropped her eyes. Sokka had often told her she talked too much, but she couldn’t help it. She liked knowing about people, especially people in her home. Especially handsome men who were in her home to protect her.

 

“I live in town,” Zuko said suddenly, starting Katara out of her thoughts.

 

“Eh…?” She blinked in surprise.

 

“I live in town,” Zuko repeated. “I have an apartment downtown. It’s pretty small though. I don’t have company often.”

 

“Not married then?” Katara asked. Zuko snorted.

 

“Definitely not.” Katara shot him a knowing smile.

 

“Right. You’re still young. Play the field and all.”

 

“Wrong, again.” Zuko smirked. “Not exactly a ton of women lining up for a date.”

 

“I get it,” Katara said sympathetically. “Long hours, right? I’ve got the same issue. Between school and work, the last hot date I had was a vending machine lunch with my ex like a year ago.” Zuko leaned back, genuine surprise mingled with suspicion on his face.

 

“That’s not the problem,” he replied slowly. Then he gestured towards the scar taking up a quarter of his face. Now Katara looked surprise.

 

“Get out!” she gasped. “You think you have a problem getting dates because of your scar?”

 

“Well...I don’t think it helps.” Katara shook her head.

 

“Okay, I just met you yesterday,” she said, tugging at her braid, “so please don’t think I’m getting weird or anything, but...you’re pretty hot. The scar doesn’t hurt you in the looks department _at all_.”  Katara felt her face bloom in what she was sure was a spectacular blush, but she managed not to turn away from the man across from her.

 

Zuko balked. He was sure she was just being kind, or maybe- and he considered it a reach- she had developed a crush on him because he was protecting her. She didn’t _seem_ to be that flighty, though. He cleared his throat and tried to fight the rising heat in his face.

 

“If you say so,” he mumbled. Katara chuckled in spite of the nervous stutter her heart was making.

 

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “You probably have so many women hanging around you hoping you’ll notice them.” Zuko’s blush deepened, and he pulled his chin in towards his chest. Katara had to duck her head to hide a grin. Under different circumstances, she thought, if they knew each other better, Zuko would have been fun to tease.

 

The coffee machine let out a keening wail. Katara leapt from her seat and poured their coffee.  She held the travel mug out to Zuko, and tried very hard not to smile at how uncomfortable he still looked.

 

“This is my favorite mug,” Katara warned him when he reached for it. “You have to give it back.”

 

“Thanks.”  Zuko accepted the cup. Then Katara walked him to the door. Zuko paused halfway out and turned to Katara. “Make sure you lock up behind me. And call me if you need to leave for anything before two.” Katara rolled her eyes and waved him on.

 

“Yes, Papa,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t worry. I’m working on my dissertation this morning, anyway. I've got all the books I need.” Zuko regarded her sternly and left. He heard the door shut and the lock click. Only then did he allow himself an amused smirk.

 

He was well on his way to the station before he began to turn over what Katara had said. She said she thought he was attractive. Not only that, she thought thatthat somew there were hordes of women who also found him attractive. Although he was alone, embarrassment made Zuko draw his shoulders up to his ears. She was just being nice, he was certain. She _had_ to be. Even his last girlfriend never said he was good looking. The only person who had called him handsome since getting the disfiguring scar was his uncle, and well, Iroh wasn't exactly representative of who Zuko wanted to attract. Katara was, though…

 

Zuko shook his head wildly. _That_ was dangerous territory. She was a victim in need of protection. To come anywhere close to crossing that line would be unethical and dishonorable, if it wasn’t completely illegal. Still, if Zuko wasn't the detective assigned to protect her….

 

“You would never have had the guts speak to her,” he told his reflection in the rearview. “At least be honest with _yourself_ , Zuko.”

 

He was still carrying Katara's travel mug when he got to the precinct. A few officers eyed the floral pattern curiously, but said nothing.

 

“I _love_ that mug!” Except Officer Nakamura.

 

“Good morning, Nakamura,” Zuko greeted her.

 

“I told you that you can call me Jin!” She leaned against his desk and eyed the pattern of the mug.

 

“It's a bit more feminine than I thought you'd pick out.”

 

“It's not mine,” Zuko told her. “I'm just borrowing it.”  That caught Jin's attention.

 

“O~oh?” Her hazel eyes turned to him sharply as she regarded him archly. “From who? You didn't run out and get a girlfriend, did you?” Jin’s tone was light, but Zuko noticed a bit of an edge to it. Her smile had frozen and tightened at the corners, like a perp with something to hide.

 

“No,” Zuko replied, trying to keep the tinge of suspicion out of his voice. “I stopped by Katara's on my way in. She was making coffee and gave me some to go.” Everyone in the precinct  knew who Katara was. Zuko didn't need to explain.

 

“Well,” Jin said breezily. “Wasn't that... sweet of her.”

 

“... she's pretty cool,” Zuko shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, she thought it was a good idea to go running alone while a serial killer is after her, but aside from that…” Jin frowned at that.

 

“Who goes out alone when they have a serial killer after them? She isn't too bright, huh?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that. She's in grad school,” Zuko pointed out. “She has to be pretty smart. Besides, she didn't realize that Jet wasn't the one following her. That's sort of my fault. I should have called her.” Jin cleared her throat and looked down at the pile of papers on Zuko’s desk.

 

“Oh, she gave you her number?” Zuko blinked in surprise.

 

“Of course she did. I'm her contact.”

 

“Right…,” Jin reached out picked up the travel mug, tracing her fingers over the tiny white flowers. “What does she study?”

 

“Um…” Zuko stared up at Jin blankly.

 

“You don't know?” Jin laughed. “Didn’t you just spend the whole day with her yesterday?”

 

“I didn't get around to asking,” he admitted a bit shamefaced. “Most of our conversations have been about Koh. I mean she asked me about myself this morning, but I didn't have time to ask about her.” Zuko quietly scolded himself for that. She had band she had fed him and given him coffee. Basic courtesy should have made him ask her something- _anything_ \- about herself. All he knew about her were things that were pertinent to her protection.    

 

“I know her brother is an engineer,” Zuko offered Jin lamely. “He's in Ba Sing Se working on the new space station.”

 

“Well... that's pretty cool, I guess.” Jin shrugged and set the mug back on Zuko’s desk.

 

“Yeah, well…” Zuko cleared his throat. Jin didn’t say anything else, but to Zuko’s surprise, she didn’t leave. Zuko watched her curiously. Jin had stuck her hands in her pockets and was chewing on her bottom lip. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jin assured him. “I just...um…The next detective exam is coming up soon. I want to sign up to take it.” Zuko leaned forward. He was a bit surprised to hear that. Once an officer’s probationary period was over, they had the right to sign up for the exam, but most stayed in uniform for five or so years before they did. Jin was only a year out of probation.

 

“It’s a lot of work,” Zuko warned her. “But I think you’d make a great detective.” Jin’s cheeks turned pink.

 

“Yeah, well…” she ran her hands over her shirt, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. She was nervous, Zuko realized, but he wasn’t sure why. “I was thinking since you took the exam yourself so recently, maybe you could give me some pointers? Or help me study?”

 

“Sure,” Zuko said. Jin’s face lit up with a bright, infectious smile. Zuko found himself smiling back.

 

“Thanks!” Jin said. Zuko was about to dismiss her so he could get to work, when a thought occurred to him.

 

“Hey, Jin? Could you do something for me?” Jin stood up straight.

 

“Anything.” Zuko fought back a smirk. Jin had been on the force for a while, but she was still as eager as a new recruit.

 

“Katara needs to go shopping today at two,” he told her. “Can you take her?” To his surprise, Jin's face contorted in annoyance.

 

“You want me to babysit a grown woman? Am I being punished for something? Or is it because I’m not a senior officer?”

 

“What? No! Her car broke down, and it's not safe for her to take public transit.” Zuko pressed his thumb into the space between his eye and nose. “I know it’s not the most exciting assignment, but it's important.” He sighed in disappointment. “I have a lot to do today, or I’d do it. But I can someone else if you can't.” Jin's back stiffened and she crossed her arms, but she relented.

 

“Alright, I'll do it.”

 

“Thanks, Jin.” Zuko smiled at her.

 

“Right…” Jin looked down at her feet, and Zuko thought he saw the faintest hint of a blush.

 

_Wait…_

 

“Hey, if you're free sometime,” Jin fiddled with the end of her hair. “Would you like to grab a coffee? With me?” Zuko was poleaxed.

 

_Oh…_

 

“Um…” Zuko replied intelligently. A thousand things ran through his head. Did Jin _really_ ask him out? Coffee was pretty innocuous. After all, he had just had coffee with Katara. Although he didn't have it _with_ her as much as she shared hers with him. What if he was just making assumptions because what Katara said had gone to his head? What if Jin was just being nice? They were friends, after all. Sort of. They didn't really hang out a but they ran into each other all the time in the break room. What if it _was_ a date? Wasn't there a policy about dating within the department? Did he have time to ask Iroh before he answered?....

 

“I'll...um...you don't have to answer right now,” Jin said, bringing Zuko's train of thought to a screeching halt.

 

“Wait…” Zuko fumbled, “Do...you…did...?” Jin held a hand up.

 

“I've got to get back to work,” she told him. She grinned at him. “Just let me know later, okay?” Zuko nodded dumbly and watched her leave. Then he scowled to himself. He was twenty-six years old. By this point in his life, he figured he should have a grasp on talking to women.

But, he reflected after a moment, at least Jin had walked away smiling.

 

Zuko a breath, and turned his attention to the work on his desk. The file for the most recent murder was on his desk, but on the floor beside it was the box of the files from the original murders. The sight of the archive box stirred his memories. Zuko wasn't supposed to read the files back when Iroh had worked the case. Zuko had snuck into his uncle's office a few times to follow the case. He had intended to tell his friends at school about it, but even at eleven, Zuko knew the details were too horrible to make public. What he read had  given him nightmares for weeks. He picked up the new file from his desk and skimmed it's contents. He wasn't looking forward to going to sleep that night.

 

The newest victim of Koh had been identified by his dental records as Hoon Gyeon. He had been a middle school science teacher the next town over. He was in his mid-fourties; divorced with two kids, the youngest just about to start the same middle school where his father worked. As it was the beginning of the summer break, and he lived alone, he hadn't even been reported missing yet. Zuko sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Thankfully, the task of delivering the bad news would not fall to him. Chief Kaji had a designated team of officers trained in grief counseling for that. But inevitably, he would have to speak to the man's family.

 

At least Hoon had his name back.

 

The coroner’s  report was in the file now that the autopsy had been completed. The cause of death had officially been determined to be malignant hyperthermia leading to metabolic acidosis as a result of being dosed with succinylcholine- which Zuko would later learn meant that Hoon had died of a high fever resulting in his blood becoming acidic caused by the drug Koh had injected in him. Hoon had also been strangled, which told Zuko that it was a part of Koh’s ritual that he wasn’t able to let go of even when strangling itself wasn’t going to kill his victims. A note the medical examiner had left in the comments section caught Zuko’s attention.

 

** _Noted: abrasions on esophagus not consistent with manual strangulation. Wounds are consistent with foreign object being forced down victim’s throat._

 

- _Dr. Bumi Yi_

 

Zuko frowned and  re-read the lines. He went through the older files, scanning the coroner’s reports attached to them. His suspicions were confirmed. There was no note about injuries inside the throat in any of them. Zuko picked up his desk phone and called the ME.

 

“Hello, Detective,” he greeted.

 

“How did you know it was-”

“Bah! I know I’m a wizened ancient rotting away with the rest of the corpses, but I _do_ know  about caller ID.” For good measure, Bumi added, “Whippersnapper.”

 

“Right,”Zuko drawled. “Listen, Bumi. I need to ask you some follow up questions about Hoon Geyon's-”

 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Bumi cut in. “Come on down.” Zuko forced down a groan.

 

“That's not necessary, Bumi,” he said. “I'm sure we can do this over the-”

 

“Nonsense,” Bumi cut in again. “I haven't seen you in ages. It'll do an old man good to see a friendly face. Turn me down and I'll just have Iroh have me up for lunch.”

 

Zuko ran a hand over his face. The last time Bumi had come up for lunch, he had taken over the briefing room for an arm wrestling tournament. One very green new recruit  had lost nearly a whole paycheck to the freakishly strong M.E. and was out for a week with a badly sprained wrist. No, better just to give the old man what he wanted.

 

“Alright,”Zuko agreed at last. “I'll be down soon.”

 

“Take your time,” Bumi said. “And if you don't mind, bring me one of those delightful grilled meat sandwiches from the van outside. I'm awful hungry. Thank you!” Bumi hung up before Zuko had a chance reply or protest.

 

“ _Bumi…_ ” Zuko growled. The old man had tricked him into buying him lunch once again.

 

The morgue was conveniently only a few blocks away. Zuko stopped by the food truck for Bumi's sandwich, and a falafel for himself and made it to the M.E.'s office in less than fifteen minutes.

 

The office looked remarkably similar to the precinct on first arrival, though Zuko blamed that mostly on the non-descript grey walls and the depressing lack of natural light. He signed in at the receptionist's desk and made his way down to the basement where Bumi's office was, just down the hall from the morgue. Zuko poked his head in the office, but to his surprise, Bumi wasn't there.

 

“Bumi?” Zuko called.

 

“In here!” Bumi's reply echoed down the hallway leading Zuko into the morgue.  Bumi covered the corpse in the examination table with a cloth, but Zuko had seen the Y incision Bumi had just made in the cadaver's chest.

 

“If you're busy, I can come back,” he offered. Bumi wave his gore covered hand, just missing hitting Zuko with a global of coagulated blood.

 

“Nevermind that,” he said. “I can already tell the old man died of arsenic poisoning. One of his money grubbing children I suspect. The findings will keep until after lunch.” Bumi removed the spatter guard from his face and grinned at Zuko. His normally wild shock of white hair was even wilder than usual. He took off the blood spattered smock and gloves and disposed of them in the hazardous waste bin. Then he scrubbed up in the sink.  

 

Bumi was one of Iroh's oldest friends. Zuko had known the man almost his entire life, but there were things about Bumi that Zuko would never get used to. Like Bumi's mad looking, unnervingly sharp light green eyes for one thing. One eye didn’t open as wide as the other, so he permanently looked as though he were mid-twitch. He was also surprisingly built for a man approaching his sixties. Zuko had seen him lift bagged bodies alone with little effort.

 

He had been an M.E. in Omashu for decades, but out of the blue about five years earlier, he had decided it was time for a change. He called Iroh and began the process of transferring his license to Republic City. The commissioner hadn’t minded. Bumi was well known among the law enforcement community as a scarily thorough examiner. Zuko hoped that his skills could help bring down Koh.

 

“It’s always nice to see you, my boy,” Bumi said. He dried his hands  and went over to the coolers and rolled out an empty tray. “You can put the bags there.”

 

“You want to have lunch **here**?” Zuko asked incredulously. Bumi shrugged and dragged his chair over to the empty body tray.

 

“It's been thoroughly disinfected. Besides, my assistant just helped me organize my desk. It’s not comfortable in there anymore.” Bumi gleefully ripped the paper bag his sandwich was in open and spread it across the metal surface like a placemat. “Oh! I do love shawarma... Aren't you going to eat?”

 

“It feels a little strange with...” Zuko glanced distastefully at the body in the middle of the room.

 

“Oh! He doesn't mind,” Bumi insisted, taking a bite out of his sandwich. He looked over his shoulder. “You don't mind, do ya, friendo?” Zuko was unconvinced.

 

“I think I'll wait.” Bumi sniffed the air.

 

“Are you sure? Falafel doesn't re-heat well.” Zuko shrugged and put the bag in his lap, out of Bumi's sight. He suddenly wasn't hungry anyway.

 

“I’m sure,” he said. “I don’t really have long to stay, actually.” Bumi nodded and took a bite of his meal.

 

“Sure, sure. Serial killer on the loose and all. How can I help you?” Zuko laid Bumi’s report between them.

 

“You said it looked like something had been shoved down Hoon Gyeon’s throat,” he said. “Koh has never done that before. Is there anyway of knowing what he used?” Bumi licked his fingers thoughtfully and raised an eyebrow at Zuko.

 

“What makes you think he’s never done it before?”

 

“What…?” Zuko’s face scrunched in confusion. “Did you read the earlier reports? There’s no mention of cuts inside the throat.”

 

“Yes,” Bumi said, tugging at his beard thoughtfully. “Funny that.” Zuko watched him expectantly.

 

“It’s something new,”  he said. “It could mean his MO is changing.”

 

“Could be,” Bumi shrugged. “ _Or_ it could be no one else ever checked.” Zuko started to reply, but then he paused. His eyes narrowed slightly.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked Bumi. The old man sank back into his seat, picking a bit of meat from his teeth with his pinky nail.

 

“Just what I said, Detective Kaji. You know what makes me so good at my job?”

 

“Um... you're really thorough?” Zuko guessed. He wasn't sure where Bumi was going. It seemed to be the right answer, though. Bumi grinned.

 

“I have always been a curious man,” he told Zuko. His tone was light and conversational, and frankly jarring. It crossed Zuko's mind that the chemical fumes in the morgue may have gone to Bumi's head. The air was thick with disinfectant, formaldehyde, and the strong undercurrent of death. It made Zuko's head swim. Bumi had been exposed to it for years and must have finally cracked.

 

“That's important for any career,”Zuko replied slowly. But I don't see what that-”

 

“I'm coming to that, boy!” Bumi fixed Zuko with an irritated glare for a moment. Then he took his pinky- the same one he had picked his teeth with- and began cleaning his ear. “I look for what may not be immediately obvious. There was no obvious reason to check down Mr. Gyeon's throat, but I did anyway because I was curious why none of Koh's victims died of suffocation. That happens you know.” Bumi stopped digging in his ear and met Zuko's eyes with unnerving sharpness.

 

“What?” Zuko blinked and dropped his gaze from Bumi's pale green eyes.

 

“When a person is administered succinylcholine, every muscle becomes paralyzed. Including the ones necessary for breathing. It wouldn't take long to die that way. A few minutes at most. Much less time than it would take Koh to remove his victim’s face. _Unless_ they're on a respirator.” Disappointment welled in the pit of Zuko's stomach.

 

“We already think Koh works in healthcare,” he said. “He has to be in order to have access to the drug.” Bumi stared hard at Zuko. “... Right?”

 

“There are ways to get anything you need if you know who to ask.” Bumi grinned at Zuko again. “You know what I think.”

 

“Can you please just tell me, Bumi?” Zuko rolled his eyes. “I do have other things to do today. You know there's an actual human life riding on us catching him, right?” Bumi sniffed haughtily.

 

“I'm aware of the young woman,” Bumi said. “I'm also aware that there is an impressive detail in charge of her safety. You can spare half an hour on an old friend. But if you insist on rushing me-”

 

“I am _begging_ you to get to the point.”

 

“Alright, then.” Bumi rolled his shoulders. “I suspect that Koh inserted some sort of intubation tube down Mr. Gyeon's, and most likely all of his victims throats. It's just not in the other reports because none of them were curious enough to check.” Zuko shoved down an impatient groan.

 

“Bumi, like I said, we already think-”

 

“Please let me finish!” Bumi was starting to sound irritated. His grin had turned into a scowl. “Honestly, you rush me and then don't let me get a word in edgewise. Pick a lane, Detective!” Zuko took a deep breath and held it- along with the smell of the morgue- for a moment and let it out.

 

“I'm sorry, Bumi,” he said with an even tone. “Please finish.”

 

“That's better.” Bumi smirked triumphantly. “As I was saying, the abrasions on our victim's throat are what caught my attention. Of course anytime you force a breathing tube down someone's throat, you expect _some_ trauma. But not this much, and especially if the victim isn't fighting. The damage I saw was caused by someone who _doesn't_ know what they're doing.” Zuko had no idea what Bumi was getting at. It must have shown on his face, because Bumi then explained,

 

“It’s possible he doesn't have any medical training.” Zuko threw his hands out to the sides.

 

“Well, how else would he have access to succinylcholine?” he demanded.

 

“Oh, lots of ways.” Bumi rolled his neck back so he was staring at the florescent lights, and he rubbed his chin. “There’s an underground market for just about anything these days. Besides, I didn't say he didn't work in a hospital. Just not as a nurse or doctor.” Zuko didn't find that helpful at all.

 

“Well, thanks, Bumi,” he said. He gathered his things and headed towards the door, bringing with him more questions than answers.


	5. The Uninvited

 

**_Chapter 5_ **

 

 

It was after seven before Zuko finished with work for the day. His eyes ached after spending the day reading through all of the archived files. Bumi's idea that Koh may not have been a doctor or nurse after all changed so much, and yet not much after all.

 

Zuko connected his phone to his car and pulled up Katara's number.

 

“City morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em!” she greeted cheerfully. Zuko recoiled in horror.

 

“Under the circumstances,” he said, “that is in _incredibly_ bad taste.” Katara's giggling filled the car. Zuko scowled.

 

“Lighten up,” she admonished. “Dark humor is how I cope.”

 

“Well, I just spent the day ears deep in horrific murder details. And in an _actual_ morgue. Maybe relax with the really on the nose jokes, yeah?”

 

“Alright, alright! I'll behave myself.”  Katara made a valiant effort to sound serious. Zuko pulled out of his  parking spot by and into the street. “So, what's up? Do you have good news for me?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. I was just calling to check up on you.”

 

“Aw! How sweet.” Zuko couldn't tell if she was being sincere, but Katara spared him the necessity of replying. “I was just thinking about ordering take out.”

 

 _“What?”_ Zuko did a double take at the speaker, and drifted over into the next lane. Fortunately, the traffic was light. He received a few angry blasts from car horns, but otherwise caused no damage. “I thought you just went shopping! Officer Nakamura took you, right?”

 

“She did…” she said. “But now I'm feeling too lazy to cook. I've been working on my dissertation all day. I'm beat.”

 

“Katara.” Zuko wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he didn't want to risk taking his eyes off the road that long. “Look, there is a serial killer after you. You are being entirely too reckless.”

 

“By ordering takeout?” Katara huffed into the phone.

 

“Yes,” Zuko's said. “By putting yourself in the position of _expecting_ a stranger to show up at your door.” Katara groaned, and Zuko heard a thud.

 

“This is _torture_!” she complained. “It's only been a day and a half, and I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I can't go running. I can't take the bus. And now I can't order in food?” Katara sounded on the verge of tears. Zuko put his hazard lights on and pulled over. He racked his mind for something to comforting to say- oh! He wished his uncle were there.

 

“You want me to bring you something to eat?” Katara laughed. It was bitter and suspiciously watery, but Zuko decided to be grateful for it.

 

“No, don't bother.” She  sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm not making this an easy job for you, huh?”

 

“It's fine!” Zuko insisted.  “Look, this would be rough on anybody. Just…don’t take unnecessary risks, okay?” The line went quiet. Zuko wondered if the call had dropped. As he reached to check his phone, Katara broke the silence.

 

“Zuko?” she called softly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Is my life ever going to be normal again?” Her breathing sped up slightly. Was she crying now? “If you- _when_ you catch him, am I going to be able to order take out without fearing for my life? Will I ever be able to leave this house alone without thinking about all the people who might want to kill me?”

 

Zuko let his head rest on the top of the steering wheel. On either side, his hands were clenched so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. What  could he say to make her feel better? What promise would give her hope? It was so much easier when his victims were dead.

 

“It's going to be hard,” he admitted. He sat up and looked towards the speaker. “I won't tell you that you won't be affected by this for...a long time probably. But, it'll get easier. And you're not going to be alone in this. If you need to talk, my uncle knows tons of therapists who work with victims of crime. And your brother obviously cares about you. He’ll be there for you.” Zuko hesitated before he added. “You can talk to me, too. For whatever it's worth. I... I've seen some terrible things, and... I guess it helps knowing that someone else kind of understands what you're going through.”

 

“Has it gotten easier for you?” Katara asked. Zuko looked in the rearview. He reached up and skimmed the edge of his scar with his fingertips.

 

“Yes,” he replied. It wasn't a complete lie. He looked away from the mirror. “Are you sure you don't want me to stop by with take out?”

 

“I'm sure.” Katara sighed. “I keep saying I want to be less lazy. I guess this is my chance. I really just want to be by myself tonight.”

 

“Okay.” Zuko pulled back out into the street.

 

“We're still on for running tomorrow, though, right?”

 

“Sure!” Zuko winced as his overly eager reply echoed through the car. Had his voice _cracked_?

 

“Well, don't let me twist your arm,” Katara laughed. There was less of the bitter edge this time. Zuko's mouth twitched up slightly.

 

“Is seven too early?”  

 

“ _Ugh! Yes_!”  Katara groaned on the other end. “But I'll be ready anyway.” This time Zuko chuckled.

 

“Alright, I'll see you then.”

 

“Yep. And, Zuko? Thanks. For everything.”

 

“Sure, Katara. Take care.’

 

The call ended as Zuko turned into his neighborhood. The security guard gave him a friendly wave as he opened the gate. Zuko nodded in return, then drove down the road towards his home. On either side of the street more gates towered over him, blocking the extravagant sprawling mansions from view.

 

Zuko lived at the back of the complex, in the one condominium building there. His mother had bought a one bedroom apartment years ago, with money she had saved up to divorce his father. She hadn't gotten to sleep in it once before she died, but she had paid it off upfront, and left it to her children. Zuko moved in after he had graduated from the academy.

 

“I'll miss having you around,” Iroh had told him the day he helped his nephew move in. “But perhaps it is time we two bachelors had our own space.”

 

“Uncle…” Zuko had honestly tried to tell Iroh how grateful he was for him. But at 19, Zuko was even worse at communicating than he would be at 26. As always, though, Iroh seemed to understand what Zuko meant. He drew his nephew into a hug, then stepped back with a proud gleam in his eyes.

 

“Let's get you settled,” he said.

 

Now, Zuko found his parking spot and made his way up to his apartment. As he stepped inside, he felt the breeze from the open balcony doors.  He never went on the balcony. Immediately Zuko drew his gun, wondering if Koh had made the mistake of bringing the fight to him.

 

He didn't turn on the lights. He swept the kitchen almost blindly, but any intruder would be at even more of a disadvantage. There was a slight noise just inside the living room. Zuko put his finger on the trigger and faced the intruder.

 

“ _Freeze!”_ he ordered.

 

“Relax,” drawled a voice that was only slightly more welcome than Koh. “It's just me.”

 

“Azula?” He turned on the light and found his younger sister leaning against the wall with a tumbler of bourbon in her hand. “What are you doing here? How did you get up here? It's nine stories up and I never gave you a key.” Azula shrugged and went to sit on the couch.

 

“I have my ways,” she told him as she lifted her drink to her lips. “And your security is weak. This wouldn't have happened in _my_ building.” Zuko rolled his head back and rubbed his chin.

 

“So, did you come by to criticize my doorman? What do you want?”

 

“Still as rude as ever, I see,” Azula chided. “Aren’t you happy to see your only sister?”

 

“I wish you had called,” Zuko said. He took his jacket off and laid it aside, then he went to his room and put his gun in the safe. Azula regarded him archly.

 

“Why?” she called after him. “So you could have conveniently been busy doing something? I wanted to see you.” Zuko stopped at his his bar cart and scowled as he put the top back on the bourbon.

 

“You haven’t even called me in almost three years.”

 

“The phone works in both directions, _brother dear_ ,” Azula pointed out. Zuko rolled his eyes. It was beginning to seem like everyone in his life was determined to give him a headache that week.

 

“So you just came by to say hello?” Zuko asked skeptically. Azula sighed and shook her head sadly.

 

“Honestly, Zuko, you’d think all the years you spent with Uncle would have taught you trust. How is the old man, by the way? Has he retired to open his tea shop yet?” Zuko sighed. So they were really going to do this.

 

“He’s still the police chief,” he told Azula. “He’ll be glad to hear you stopped by.”

 

“Sure,” Azula scoffed, taking another sip of bourbon.  It was true, though. Iroh often said he wished the siblings could be on better terms, despite- or maybe because of- the fact that he hadn’t spoken to his own brother in over a decade. Zuko knew his uncle sent Azula cards on her birthdays and holidays, and he suspected that Iroh tried to keep in touch between. Zuko himself had long ago learned the wisdom of giving his younger sister her space.

 

“Have you had dinner yet?” Zuko asked, eyeing the glass in Azula’s hand. “I think I have some leftovers in the fridge.” Azula made a disgusted face.

 

“I’ve never been _that_ hungry,” she said. “I didn’t come over to have dinner with you.”

 

“Does that mean you’re finally going to tell me why you’re here?”  Zuko crossed his armed and stared at Azula expectantly. Azula drained the rest of her drink and stood up with only the barest hint of a waver.

 

“Zuko, I've come to offer you a job.”

 

“I already have a job.”  Zuko rolled his eyes and wandered into the kitchen. Azula may not have been hungry, but he was.

 

“I mean a _real_ job,” Azula let out a derisive snort. Zuko dug through his leftovers for the cold sesame noodles he had made a few days earlier.

 

“Being a detective isn't exactly some after school gig,” he said. He found the leftovers, and they still smelled good. He briefly considered taking some to Katara in case she decided not to eat that night.

 

“ _When_ are you going to get over this superhero complex, Zuzu?” Zuko scowled at Azula's childhood nickname for him and slammed the refrigerator door shut.

 

“Don't call me that.” Azula was pouring herself another drink when he came back. She turned and handed him a glass of bourbon. It was twice as much as Zuko usually drank in one sitting. He took a sip, and set it down on the coffee table while he ate.

 

“Isn't this the bottle that Mai got you for your birthday two years ago?” Azula asked, filling her own cup. Zuko eyed it with chagrin. The bottle was nearly half gone. “You know it comes pre-aged.”

 

“I _was_ saving it for a special occasion,” Zuko  grumbled.

 

“This _is_ a special occasion,” his sister declared holding her glass up. “The Kaji kids are reunited at last.”  Zuko sighed, then lifted his glass to tap against hers. Azula tilted her glass to her lips. Zuko set his aside again.

 

“What do you want from me, Azula?” he asked. “Sozin is doing fine. You’ve never wanted my help before.” Azula set her glass down next to Zuko’s and turned towards him.

 

“It’s Zhao,” she told him. Zuko looked at Azula sharply.

 

“What _about_ him?” he asked grimly. Azula sat back, her arms draped over the back and armrest of the couch. Her eyes, slightly glazed over with alcohol, narrowed angrily.

 

“He is trying to oust me,” she said. “He doesn’t think I know, but I do. He’s undermining me every chance he gets, and he’s  been dealing with clients behind my back.” Zuko’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

 

“Zhao’s always been a snake,” he said. “I don’t know why you kept him on after Ozai went to jail.”  Azula shrugged.

 

“It was easier than letting him go and trying to sort through the mess Dad left,” she said. “But he crossed a line this week. He went to the board behind my back, and told them that _I_ might not be ‘ _fit to run Sozin’_ . That I'm too young to hold the position _I_ was born and raised  for.” Zuko nodded in sympathy. That would be frustrating for anyone, but especially for Azula who at 24 was the youngest CEO in Sozin's history. Especially since it was Zhao, who had nearly succeeded in taking over the company when Ozai went to jail.

 

“Sucks,” Zuko grunted. “What’s that got to do with me, though?”

“Zhao has been getting support among the the department heads,” Azula explained. “I know a couple of them, and they _will_ be dealt with. But he has more. I need someone I can trust on the inside.” Zuko had been mid-sip and nearly spat his expensive bourbon on the floor.

 

“You _trust_ me?” he laughed. “Azula, you don’t even _like_ me.”

 

“I don’t,” Azula agreed. “But I know you, Zuzu.” Zuko’s nose flared at the nickname. “You always do the _honorable_ thing. And you hate Zhao as much as I do. Do you _really_ want to see him as head of our great-grandfather’s company?”

 

“I honestly could not care less if I tried.” Zuko crossed his ankle over his knee. “I stopped giving Zhao living space in my head years ago. I suggest you do the same. Why don’t you just fire him?”

 

“Don’t you think I _would_ if I _could_ ?” Azula growled. “I _told_  you, I _need_ him. After all this time, I _still_ need him because he knows how Dad operated. He has connections to suppliers that I haven’t even heard of. I can’t run Sozin without him, and he knows that. But if _you_ would come back...if I had an ally who could find out who his supporters are, I could cut him off at the knees. Zhao knows I need him, but _he_ needs Sozin. If you and I work together, we’ll have him right where we want him!”

 

“You don’t need him,” Zuko said. “You’re smart enough to run the company yourself. You _should_ get rid of Zhao. Hang his connections. They’re more than likely illegal anyway.”

 

“Do you know what that would cost Sozin?” Azula demanded. “You’re all about saving people aren’t you? How many jobs do you think would be lost if I did that?”

 

“Less than would be lost if _you_ went to jail and Sozin went under completely,” Zuko pointed out. “Layoffs happen. Most people are fine afterwards. And, hey, if you’re really concerned with keeping job losses low, though, you could always cut the executive salaries.” Azula fixed him with a cutting glare, but Zuko just shrugged. “ _If_ I ever agreed to come work at Sozin with you, part of my condition would be that you bring the business above board anyway. You don’t _really_ want me there.”

 

“Our family has built an empire!” Azula declared. She leapt off the couch and towered over Zuko. “You’d risk our position as the most powerful company in the world because you don’t like the cost of doing business? Where is your sense of family pride?”

 

“I still have some,” Zuko assured her. “That’s why I decided to follow in Uncle’s footsteps instead of Ozai’s.” Azula’s face contorted in fury. Her grip tightened around her glass, and she spun and hurled it at the wall. It exploded in a shower of glass and ice and alcohol.

 

“Are you _crazy_?” Zuko jumped to his feet.

 

“ _Why?_ ” Azula shrieked. “ _Why_ are you so willing to play the hero for the entire city, but you won’t be there when _I_ need you?”

 

“Azula…” Zuko reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but Azula spun away, nearly tripping over the coffee table.

 

 _“_ It won't bring her back, you know,” Azula told him. “No matter how many people you save, it won't change what happened to Mom. It won't erase what Dad did to you, either.”

 

Zuko froze. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Azula stared at him in a similar pose. Her shoulders quaked in anger, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, her chest heaving with pent in rage. Zuko was much younger the last time he and his sister had had an argument like this. Back then he would match her shout for shout; broken glass for broken glass. But he was years away from that Zuko. Now he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.

 

“You’re drunk,” he said quietly. “We can’t talk like this. You can sleep it off on the couch. I’m going to bed.” He turned towards his room.

 

“ _Don’t walk away from me!_ ” Azula screamed after him. Zuko flinched for his neighbors, but the walls were hopefully thick enough to keep Azula from disturbing them much.

 

“Please don’t break anymore of my glasses,” he said. He paused at his drink cart and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. “I have to leave early, but you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

 

“ _Zuko, come back here!_ ” Azula called after him.

 

“Good night, Azula.”

\------------

 

Katara stayed on the kitchen floor for a long while after she hung up with Zuko. She stared at her refrigerator and mentally went through all of the ingredients she had bought. She had plenty of food, but she couldn’t even find the energy to wipe the tears from her face, much less get up and actually cook. Soon her tears dried and the sun set, but she stayed on the floor in the dark going over her grocery list until her legs began to tingle. When she finally reached out and pulled herself up by the island’s granite countertop, she realized that nearly two hours had passed since she had spoken to Zuko. Her stomach reminded her that it had been even longer than that since lunch.

 

Sokka hated to cook, but with Katara often too busy to cook, he had to rely on takeout and instant meals. Katara had made him finish all the frozen meals so they wouldn’t take up unnecessary space while he was gone, but Katara thought she remembered seeing a few packages of instant noodles in the cabinet somewhere. It would do for the evening, and Katara could cook a few dinners worth of food the next day.

 

“So this is what I’ve been reduced to,” she grumbled distastefully, as she poured the boiling water into the cup of noodles. Her phone started ringing then, and she answered without checking the name.

 

“Hey, Sugar Queen,” her friend Toph greeted on the other end. “What’s shaking?”

 

“Toph!” Katara cried happily. “It’s so good to hear from you!”

 

“I’ve been gone less than a week,” Toph said. “Are you alright? I got the weirdest call from Sokka earlier today. He asked if I was playing a really unfunny prank on you, and then he asked if I would end my vacation early and come stay with you.” Katara sighed.

 

“That’s Sokka.” She chuckled, but it was a weak, unconvincing sound. Toph picked up on it immediately.

 

“Seriously,” she said, her voice full of concern. “Are you okay?” Katara tried to say yes, but the word caught in her throat. To her annoyance, a sob bubbled up instead. “Katara, what’s wrong?”

 

“Toph...I-” Katara didn’t know how to tell her friend what was happening. So instead she cried. Again. Toph, in an uncharacteristic show of tact, let her without trying to interrupt. It took much less time to gather herself than it had earlier. Distantly, Katara worried about dehydration.

 

“What’s going on?” Toph asked once Katara had calmed down. “Did something happen at school? So help me, Sweetness, if I find out all of this noise is about a bad grade-”

 

“Something really bad happened, Toph,” Katara cut her friend off. Toph went quiet, and Katara chewed her lip.

 

“...are you sick?” Katara choked on a laughed. That would almost be better.

 

“No, I’m not sick.” Katara sighed. She was exhausted. “There...there’s a serial killer after me.” Toph went silent again for half a moment, and then-

 

“ _What_?” Katara had to pull her phone away from her ear. Toph rattled off a string of swears that would have shamed sailors. In the background, Katara heard Toph’s mother chastising her for her language just before a door slammed. This time Katara did laugh, and Toph heard.

 

“Are you _laughing_? Is this a joke?” she fumed.

 

“It’s not,” Katara gasped. “It’s not. Oh, Toph. The past two days have been awful. I can't even order takeout.”

 

“Whoa, slow down.” Katara could hear Toph taking a few deep breaths. “ _What_ is going on?”

 

Katara told her friend the story. How she had found the poem taped to her door, and then the photos the next morning. Her conversation with Sokka and how he had accused Aang of leaving the poem. The detective working her case and all the things Zuko had told her she wasn’t allowed to do for the time being. When she finished, she had left Toph speechless for the first time since they had met.

 

“Toph, are you still there?” she asked.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Toph replied. “You have a serial killer after you- an honest to goodness wants to wear your face as a mask serial killer- and you decided to _go running and call in for take out_ ? Are you out of your mind? _Katara!_ ”

 

“Could you not yell at me?” Katara groaned. “Zuko already gave a solid chewing out, okay? I won't order take out, or go running, or go check the mailbox without telling him to send me a police escort. Happy?”

 

“Of course not!” Toph snapped. “This _sucks_! It should be that scum sucking elbow leech locked up somewhere, not you. But I’d be even less happy if he killed you and I had to hunt him down to return the favor because you’re too stubborn to practice basic self-preservation.”

 

“Well, at least I know my death would be avenged.” The noodles were done cooking by that point, Katara peeled back the lid and huffed. ‘I'm tempted to ask you to kill him any way. Because of this guy, I have to eat Sokka's instant noodles tonight.”

 

“Didn't you say a cop took you grocery shopping today?” Katara stabbed at her meal and made a face.

 

“Yeah,” she grumbled.  Toph laughed at her.

 

“You can't blame the serial killer for _your_ laziness!”

 

“Rude…” Katara dug into the cup of noodles. She gasped. “Oh, no!”

 

“What?” Toph asked frantically. “What happened?”

 

“Oh, no!” Katara groaned again.”Toph, the noodles-” Toph sucked her teeth.

 

“Katara, if you don't stop complaining about those-”

 

“No, Toph, you don't understand.” Katara dug in again. “They're actually... _good_.”

 

“I hate, you, Katara,” Toph said. “I'm hanging up now.”

 

“Wait!” Katara cried. “Don't go yet, please? I'm all by myself and I'm bored.”

 

“Why are you alone?” Toph demand. “No one could stay with you?” Katara slumped against her seat. She stirred the noodles in their container.

 

“No,” she said. “Everyone I trust enough to ask is out of town. Besides, how do I know I won't get someone else targeted by this guy?”

 

“I don't like it,” Toph said. “I don't like you being there alone.” She paused. ‘Do you want me to come back?”

 

“Thanks, Toph,” Katara sighed.”But I can't ask you to do that. Sokka will be here the day after tomorrow, so I just have to get through one more day. Zuko's going to go running with me in the morning. At least I'll get some fresh air.”

 

“Yeah, about this _Zuko_ ,” Toph cut in. Her tone had Katara immediately on edge. “You're on a first name basis with your detective?” Katara shrugged.

 

“I figured he's saving my life. Formalities seem pretty weird under the circumstances.”

 

“I don't know…” Toph said suspiciously. “You already have one creepy old guy stalking you. How do you know this Zuko guy isn't trying to take advantage?” Katara let out a snort of laughter.

 

“It's not like that at all.” Toph made a skeptical noise. “ _Honestly!_ First of all, he's not old. He’s _maybe_ a three years older than me. Second, he is so uncomfortable with himself, it's kind of endearing.  I'm not sure he even knows _how_ to make a move on someone.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Her tone set Katara on edge again, but for a different reason. “You think he's hot, don't you?”

 

“ _Toph!_ I _just_ met the guy yesterday under the absolute worst circumstances.”

 

“So?” Toph pressed. “I'm not asking if you want to marry the guy. I just want to know if he's attractive.” Katara's thoughts went back to that morning, and the heat rose in her cheeks. Toph knew her well enough to tell if she lied.

 

“He is _very_ attractive,” Katara admitted. “But _he_ doesn't think so.”

 

“Oh?” Toph was curious now. “Why not? Is he fat? You know how cops love their sweets.” Katara chuckled in spite of herself.

 

“No, he clearly knows his way around a gym.” Katara stirred the leftover broth in her cup. “He has a scar on his face. A big one.”

 

“Huh…” Katara heard tapping in the other end of the line. Toph must have been drumming her fingers or something. “Are you _sure_ you don't have a thing for this guy?”

 

“ _Positive_ , Toph,” Katara insisted. “Trust me, he is an objectively handsome man. You can take a poll when you get back.”

 

“Okay…” Toph said sounding very unconvinced. “If you say so. Just don't go falling in love with the guy who's protecting you. That's _such_ a cliché.”

 

“Don't worry,” Katara assured Toph. “Besides he's not interested anyway. I'm his _job_.”

 

“Whatever you say, Sweetness.” Katara rolled her eyes. But at least Toph was teasing her and not speaking to her like a victim. Even Jin Nakamura, the officer who had taken her shopping that afternoon had treated Katara with a businesslike distance.

 

“How's your visit home going?” Katara asked suddenly. Toph heaved a heavy sigh.

 

“As well as can be expected,”she said. 'But at least they're not threatening to have me transferred to the university here this time.” Katara wrinkled her nose.

 

“Can they do that? You're legally an adult.”

 

“When you have enough money, anything is possible.”  Toph snorted. “It's taken twenty two years to convince my parents that being blind isn't a terminal illness. I think they-”

 

“Toph, _shhh_!” Katara cut in sharply. “I think I heard something.”

 

“In the house?” Toph was whispering. Katara peeked out of the kitchen. There was no sign of movement anywhere. Then she heard the noise again.

 

“I think it came from the yard,” she told Toph. “Hang on. I need to find the flashlight.” Toph let out a frustrated groan.

 

“You're investigating?” She wasn't whispering anymore. Katara hushed her friend again.

 

“I'm not going outside,” she said. 'And I'm for sure not letting this guy make me afraid in my own home.”

 

“Katara! Stop and think would you?” Toph was getting angry, Katara could tell. She pursed her lips and went to the front door. There was a police cruiser parked across the street, and in the shadows cast by the streetlamp, Katara could see someone sitting behind the wheel. They saw her peering through the window and waved. Katara returned it and then turned back to the back of the house.

 

“Toph, there is an officer sitting outside the house,” she assured her friend. She heard the noise again. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Wonderful,” Toph drawled. “Call them in and let _them_ check it out.” Katara grabbed Sokka’s flashlight. It was made of metal and had a heavy head, and Katara thought it would make a decent weapon. Just in case.

 

“Okay, I’m in the living room,” she told Toph quietly.

 

“Katara, if you die while I’m on the phone with you,  I’ll bring you back and kill you myself. Go get help!” Katara reached through the blinds to double checked the lock and the wooden plank. The door rattled slightly and Katara leapt back with a shriek.

 

“What happened?” Toph cried.”Katara, what happened?”

 

Katara almost couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in her ears. She turned on the flashlight and threw back the shades, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with her shoulder.  She swung the light around wildly and caught the greenish yellow gleam of a pair of eyes near the ground before they disappeared across the yard. Katara yelped and stumbled backward onto the floor. The flashlight rolled under the sofa.

 

“ _Tui and La_ ,” Katara gasped scrambling to her knees. Her phone landed on the carpeted floor beside her.

 

“What’s going on?” Toph was beginning to sound frantic. Katara grabbed her phone.

 

“I’m fine, Toph,” she said breathlessly. “It was just some animal. I only saw its eyes.” Katara reached under the couch for the flashlight while Toph gathered her thoughts. Katara’s own heart was racing wildly. She could feel it pulsing in her fingertips.

 

“Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again,” Toph managed to say at last. Katara winced. Toph sounded furious.

 

“Toph, I’m-”

 

“I’m serious, Katara!” Toph shouted. “I thought I was about to hear my best friend die. I know you want to take care of yourself, and that’s cool. But right now, your life is in danger. You do get that right?” Katara scowled, but she nodded. A useless gesture under any circumstance, but even more so now.

 

“I get it,” she said. “I get it.”

 

“Good!” Toph snapped. After a moment she said, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to come back? I’m sure one of my parents' friends has a private jet or something I can borrow.” Katara smiled weakly.

 

“No, honestly, I’ll be fine,” she said. “Sokka will be home soon, so I won’t be alone.”

 

“Fine,” Toph grumbled. “But promise you’ll call a cop in the next time you hear things going bump in the night.” Katara wanted to feel indignant, but she was still too dizzy from the adrenaline rush to argue.

 

“I will,” she promised reluctantly. “I’ll make sure my guards are all earning their paychecks.”

 

“Good,” Toph said. Then she added with a weak chuckle, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to have an excuse to have Zuko come over and check your closets for monsters.” She made loud kissing noises into the phone.

 

“Ugh!” Katara groaned. “Good night, Toph!”

 

“Good night, Sugar Queen.”

 

\------------

_He couldn’t be seen from his hiding place. He knew it, but still, when the blinds opened and he saw the beam of the flashlight, he still shrunk into himself. He was close enough to hear her scream through the glass. He was close enough to see the little ground lemur that startled her scamper over the back fence._

 

_He was close enough to take her. He might have under different circumstances, but the simple fact of the increased police presence made things more complicated for him. There was an officer parked out front at the moment, and several more cruisers circling the neighborhood. He had been forced to leave his car nearly a mile from the house. He wouldn’t be able to carry her the entire way without being noticed. He would need to find some other weakness in the security around her._

 

_The lights began going off in the house. She would be going to sleep soon. He stood up and shook out his sleeping limbs. His time would come, he thought confidently. And when it did, he was certain this would be his favorite piece in his collection._

_\------------_


	6. On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone!

Zuko had gone into the living room twice during the night, the first time to clean the glass off of the floor once Azula had fallen asleep- or passed out, he wasn’t entirely sure. She had ignored the throw blanket, but Zuko draped it over her anyway. The second time he went specifically to check on his sister. He left a plastic cup of water and a few pain pills and seltzer tablets on the coffee table, and he in the bathroom he laid out a fresh towel, washcloth, and he had even found a new toothbrush in the back of his linen closet. Finally, he was able to go properly to sleep.

 

Azula was gone when he woke the next morning. The water, aspirin and tablets were gone, but the things he left in the bathroom for her were untouched. The front door was unlocked, and Zuko could only hope she had called a car service to take her home.

 

It was already half past  6 when Zuko checked his phone. He had less than an hour before  he had to meet Katara. There was no way he could make it on time, but he figured he could choose to be slightly late rather than ridiculously late.

 

**_Bzzz_ **

**_Bzzz_ **

 

Zuko's phone went off before he could set it down. Azula had sent him a text with just one word.

 

_Reconsider_

 

Zuko sighed and put his phone aside. There wasn't time to go back and forth with Azula now. He needed to get ready to go. He had made it as far as his car before his phone went off again. A video call this time, and Katara's disapproving face filled the screen.

 

“You're late,” she said when he answered. Her eyebrow was cocked, and her mouth pinched in an annoyed line, but there was a playful gleam in her eye that let Zuko know she wasn't _too_ angry.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “I'm on my way, though. See?” He switched the camera around so she could see his car. Katara huffed and pouted into her camera.

 

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to wake up at the crack of dawn?” she demanded. Zuko smirked.

 

“You've been up since 5? Because that's what time the sun rose.” Katara pulled a face at him.

 

“My day usually doesn’t start until eight,” she informed him. “At the _earliest_ . I hauled my carcass up so I could be ready to go because _you_ told me you’d be here at 7. What gives, dude?” Zuko grimaced as he climbed into his car.

 

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “But if you don’t get off the phone, I can’t drive and I’ll be even later.”

 

“Fine,” Katara made another face at him. “But hurry up!” Then she hung up.

 

She was outside when Zuko pulled up about twenty minutes later. She had her leg pulled up behind her to stretch out her quad muscles. When she saw him, she released one hand and waved at him.

 

“About time,” she chided him with a grin. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up. I was going to ask Officer Arnaq to go with me instead when he drove by again.”

 

“Nah,” Zuko said. “That guy hates running. He’d probably just follow you in the cruiser. Or make you chase it.” Katara shrugged noncommittally.

 

“So, what kept you?” she asked, leaning down to grab her toes.  Zuko put his things on to the steps and copied her.

 

“I had a late night,” he told her.

 

“Oh?” Katara glanced over at him. “Working late?” Zuko’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

 

“My sister dropped by,” he said. Katara stood up.

 

“What?” she gasped. “I’m sorry! You didn’t leave her to come here did you? You should have cancelled.” Zuko stood and shook his shoulders out.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Zuko assured her. “It was unexpected and she left before I woke up. Let’s go.”

 

Zuko let Katara lead the way to the park. She was faster than he expected, and Zuko found himself having to run faster than usual to keep up with her. The park wasn’t far, and soon Katara led the way to a woods lined path around a pond. Zuko's eyes swept over the area. He was pleased to see that Katara hadn't exaggerated the day before. There were people everywhere. Still, he caught himself staring into the trees and analyzing all the places a criminal could hide or drag a victim off to or…

 

Zuko shook his head and focused on keeping up with Katara. A stitch was forming in his side reminding him that he hadn’t actually been running regularly in months. He was working harder than he was expecting to keep up with Katara, but he was managing it. Until she led him up the hill.

 

“You can’t be serious!” he gasped. The hill was really more of a small mountain. It rose up suddenly and steeply in the middle of the park. The tree lined path wound back and forth, so it wasn’t a straight shot to the top. Katara laughed at the expression on his face.

 

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” she said. “The view from the top is worth it.” Zuko very much doubted that, but when Katara started running, he followed. He found that it was easier if he didn’t look too far ahead, and he focused instead of the rhythm of his feet hitting the ground.

 

Katara stopped at the top of the hill and waited for Zuko to catch up. She turned back panting, and red-faced, but beaming at him. Zuko nearly froze midstep. Katara looked impossibly happy- impossibly carefree- despite everything. _This_ was the life Koh wanted to cut short. Zuko had only ever seen the aftermath of Koh's crimes, but now he wondered about the other lives. Had any of _them_ been in school? Had any of them loved running in the park? Did any of them smile the way Katara was smiling at him now? Zuko felt something break and then harden in him. The new resolve settled in his stomach. He would see that every last one of Koh's victims got justice. And he would make sure he never laid a hand on Katara, no matter what.

 

“Come look!” She beckoned  him closer. “You _have_ to see this view.”  Zuko scrambled the rest of the way to her side.

 

The view was breathtaking. The hill they stood on was surrounded on two sides by woods. With their backs to the path and the city skyscrapers, it was easy to imagine that they were in a deep forest somewhere far from Republic City.

 

Katara closed her eyes and tilted her head up towards the sun. The past two days seemed like a strange dream in that moment. She wanted to hold on to it for as long as she could.

 

“It's really pretty up here,” Zuko said quietly. Katara opened her eyes and sighed. It had been a nice moment.

 

“I like to come up here to clear my head sometimes,” Katara told Zuko with a small smile. “Something about the air here makes things seem clearer somehow. It helps me make decisions.” Katara glanced over at Zuko.

 

“You have a big decision to make now?” he asked her. Katara nodded. She dropped her gaze to the ground.

 

“I…I think I should stay at a hotel tonight,” she said.

 

“Huh…?” Whatever Zuko expected her to say, that wasn't even close. Katara wrapped her arms around herself, and tried to find the words to explain herself.

 

“Something ...happened last night,” she said hesitantly. “It wasn't a big deal, but I don't... I don't feel safe.” Katara swallowed hard against the bitter lump of anger in her throat. She told Zuko about the night before, and how she had been startled by the animal in her yard. Zuko's face darkened in consternation when Katara told him she had gone to check out the noise on her own instead of letting an officer do it, but he held his tongue and let Katara speak.

 

“I have never been that afraid in my own home before,” Katara said. She kept her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. “I know I should have gotten an officer or something, but that felt like I was giving up. I didn't want Koh to ...win I guess. That sounds pretty stupid, huh?” There was a wry smile on Katara's face when she turned to Zuko, but her jaw was clenched, and her nostrils flared angrily. Zuko reached for her hand.

 

“It's not stupid,” he told her. Katara looked down at their hands. For a moment Zuko thought she was going to drop his, but she didn't. She didn't acknowledge it at all as she turned her gaze back to the tree tops.

 

“I don't want to go,” Katara confessed. Her voice was so low Zuko almost missed it. “But I couldn't sleep last night.”

 

The truth was that her heart hadn't slowed completely after she hung up with Toph. That night every sound seemed to be amplified and morphed into something sinister. The noises she had been used to hearing for years suddenly had Katara jumping up and checking shadows. It wasn't until the sun lit up the horizon and proved there was no one watching her room from the shadows outside that the thudding in Katara's chest stilled and she could breathe again. She didn't want to spend another night that way.

 

“We can figure it out,” Zuko said. “There are hotels we send witnesses to when-”

 

“Don't worry.” Katara slipped her hand out of Zuko's to push some stray hair out of her face. She forced a smile. “I can take care of finding a room. I want to do _that_ for myself at least.”

 

“Alright.” Zuko flexed his fingers. He cleared his throat and looked at Katara almost shyly. “There's nothing wrong with this, you know.” Katara quirked her eyebrow questioningly.

 

“What?” Zuko shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Leaving tonight,” he clarified. “Spending the night away from home. It's not a point for Koh. It’s not weak.”  

 

“I...I know.” Katara frowned. It was essentially what Sokka and Toph had told her, and she wanted to believe them all. She really did. There was no rational explanation to how she had been acting since she found out Koh was after her, except that she wasn’t used to so many people being concerned about her. She wasn’t used to not being able to solve her own problems and everyone else’s. Katara brought her arms around herself.

 

“Hey,” Zuko said, breaking her pensive silence. Katara turned towards him. “You want to go grab some breakfast?” Katara hesitated a moment.

 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” They ran back to the house to Zuko’s _slight_ chagrin. But they were going downhill this time, and he was able to keep up more or less. When they got back to the house, Katara headed for the stairs while Zuko gathered his things from the front hall.

 

“Where are you going?” Zuko asked. Katara pointed up stairs.

 

“I’m going to clean up a little,” she said.

 

“Seriously?” Zuko raised his eyebrow.

 

“Well, yeah,” Katara furrowed her brow. “I’m not getting in the shower. I’m just going to get some of this sweat and dirt off of me. I feel gross.”  Zuko shook his head.

 

“No!’ he said. “If I have to go sweaty and gross, so do you.”

 

“You can’t be serious.” Katara laughed incredulously. “I’m home. I have clean clothes.” Zuko kept shaking his head.

 

“Solidarity, Katara,” he replied. “If I’m sweaty and gross, you should be, too.”

 

“You can clean up, too,” Katara offered. “I’ll give you a washcloth.” Zuko declined.

 

“I have to go to work after this,” he said. “I don’t have time. Let’s get going.”

 

“But…” Katara protested. Zuko took her hand and led her towards the door.

 

“Think of it like this,” he said, slipping on his shoes. “We aren’t going to look sweaty and gross to everyone. We’re going to look athletic and superior. Come on, we could both used a healthy dose of feeling arbitrarily better than everyone.” That got a genuine laugh from Katara. She stepped back into her sneakers.

 

“Alright, fine,” she relented. “You win. Just give me a second.”

 

“You're not allowed to clean up,” Zuko warned.

 

“I literally _just_ said I wouldn't.” Katara lifted her wrist and pressed a button on what Zuko thought was a watch.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Logging my miles,” Katara explained. “This is how I keep track of my progress. It helps me set running goals. See?” Katara showed Zuko her phone. “It sends all the info to this app. It tracks where I run, and suggests other routes I might like.”

 

“That's pretty cool,” Zuko said. “Are you done? I'm really hungry.” Katara laughed and grabbed her keys.

 

“Let's go, greedy.”

 

Zuko ended up taking Katara to a diner about half-way between his apartment and the precinct. He’d been there a couple of times, and the food was decent, but he chose it for the anonymity. It was far enough from the university that he was fairly certain Katara wouldn’t know anyone there, and it wasn’t a cop hang out either, so no one Zuko knew would be there. For Zuko it felt like leaving all the things in his life that stressed him out behind, and he hoped it would help Katara, too.

 

“You can get whatever you like,” Zuko said once they had been seated. “It’s on me.” Katara dropped her menu.

  
“Absolutely not,” she said. “Breakfast is on me.” Zuko shook his head.

 

“I’m serious. I’ve got it.’

 

“Come on!” Katara insisted. “Let me get this. I have to thank you somehow!” Zuko recoiled in surprise.

 

“Thank me?” he asked. “For what?”  Katara waved her hands around.

 

“Everything!” she said. “Everything you’ve done for me the last couple of days.” Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“You mean _my job_?”

 

“Well...yeah,” Katara said. “I know it’s your job, but...You’re being so nice about it. You’re honestly the only reason I’m not curled up under my bed crying. And I know I haven’t made your job easy. So...yeah...that’s what I’m thanking you for. And I guess apologizing for, too.” Zuko’s shoulders had inched their way up to his ears, the tips of which he was certain were turning bright red.

 

“You don’t owe me either,” he told Katara. “You don’t need to thank me or apologize. You really haven’t been _that_ difficult.” Katara shot him a disbelieving look. Zuko shrugged. “Sure, you’ve been a _little_ reckless- like, that checking strange noises thing alone, don’t do that again- but it’s not like you’re being obnoxious or anything. It’s totally understandable. So...breakfast is on me, okay?” Katara shook her head.

 

“How about we compromise?” she suggested. “I’ll pay for your breakfast and you can pay for mine.” Zuko thought about fighting the point a bit more, but Katara had a look on her face that suggested that she was just as ready to dig her heels in. Instead, Zuko relented with a chuckle.

 

“Alright,” he said throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright you win. We’ll compromise.”

 

“Aren’t you two just the cutest couple?” Zuko flinched and the pair turned towards the waitress they hadn’t seen approaching near the end of their conversation. “I wish I could get my husband to fall in line so quickly.” Zuko started to correct her, but Katara cut him off.

 

“Thanks,” she said smiling. She winked at Zuko conspiratorially. The waitress didn’t notice the exchange.

 

“How long have two been together,” she asked. “Oh! I’ll bet it’s been a while. The way you two communicate.” Katara smiled and did an admirable job hiding her laughter. Zuko just blanched.

 

“It’s actually pretty new,” she said.

 

“Brand new,” Zuko mumbled in agreement. “We haven’t even driven off the lot yet.” The waitress furrowed her brow in confusion.

 

“Yes, well,” she said, pulling out her order pad and pen. “What can I get you two to start? Juice? Tea? Coffee?”

 

“Coffee for me, please,” Katara said.

 

“I’ll have tea, thanks.” Zuko turned his attention his menu. He focused on the breakfast selection, hoping that would help him fight the furious blush on his face.

 

“You’re one of those tea over coffee people, huh?” Katara commented. Zuko smirked to himself and said quietly,

 

“You better be- _leaf_ it.” There was a beat of silence before Katara burst into laughter at his joke. The waitress smiled at him too.

 

“Oh, you’re going to be my favorite table,” she said. “I can tell.”

 

Katara wiped tears of mirth. She didn't get her laughter under control until the waitress was gone. Her wide grin remained even after she stopped laughing. Zuko's chest swelled in an odd sense of pride at it. Very few people found him funny.

 

“That was awful,’ Katara told him. She was still giggling a bit, so Zuko chose to smile back at her.

 

“I am Iroh's nephew,” he said with self-deprecating shrug.

 

“Don't worry, I love a terrible pun ,” Katara assured him. She picked up her menu and looked over the breakfast options. Zuko picked what he wanted, and turned his attention back to Katara. She seemed to be having a much harder time deciding, because Zuko noticed a wrinkle just above her nose. Was that what she looked like when she studied, he wondered.

 

“What are you in school for?” Zuko asked. Katara looked up from the menu.

 

“I didn't tell you?” she asked.

 

“I...er...hadn't asked,” Zuko said. He looked at Katara sheepishly. “I should have, but…” Katara put her hand up.

 

“There were other things on your mind,’ she finished for him. “No, I get it. I'm not offended.” She set her menu aside. “I'm working on my PhD in public policy, domestic and foreign.”

 

“What does that mean?” Katara grinned at Zuko's question, as if it were a private joke she had with herself.

 

“Sokka says it's my first step towards global domination,” she said. “But really, it just means that I'm learning how the be a professional bureaucrat.”

 

“That sounds…” Zuko floundered for the right word.

 

“Boring?” Katara supplied. Zuko protested that that's not what he meant, but Katara waved him off. “I know it's not as interesting as being a detective or building a space station, but I can help make policy and change laws. I can help make universal healthcare a reality, and make sure everyone has access to quality education, even if they don't have a lot of money. I could help shape foreign policy, too.”

 

“You make it sound so important,” Zuko said. Katara nodded.

 

“It is,” she said. 'And it's a lot more interesting than it sounds. A couple of months ago, my  professor let me be part of a team that's looking into expanding health coverage for the poor. I did research at the hospital around the city and spoke to the doctors about what kind of support they would need for that. What?” Sometime during Katara's story Zuko began to frown. He stared at her now with a calculating look.

 

“You say that you were visiting the hospitals in the area?” he asked. “You were **in** the hospitals?” Suddenly Katara realized that he had gone into detective mode.

 

“Yes,” she replied. “Is that important?” Zuko's frown deepened, and he drummed his fingers against his chin thoughtfully.

 

“It may be. We think Koh might work in a hospital.”

 

“ _What_?” Katara was incredulous. She went back over the doctors she had spoken to, but none of them stood out as especially likely to be a serial killer. But how would she know?

 

“It's just a theory,” Zuko said. “We think he's been using succinylcholine on his victims.”

 

“Tui and La…”   Katara's heart thudded hard against her chest, but she didn't want to change the subject. “That's kind of good news, though.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Succinylcholine is a serious drug,” Katara explained. “There are only two hospitals in Republic City that would have it on hand, and they both require a doctor to put in a personal access code to get it. All the medicine is tracked closely, so if there's less of a drug than there should be, the hospital will know exactly who was in the supplies and when. It's really hard for a doctor to get away with stealing long term." Katara shrugged and slumped back in her seat. "Well, the drugs like succinylcholine, at least.”

 

“That's good to know,” Zuko said. How had no one else bothered to mention that? He had been preparing to call around to all five hospitals in the area, a task that would have taken up too much precious time. Now he only had two on his list. Still,

 

“The ME thinks Koh doesn't have any medical training,” Zuko told Katara. “He says Koh might just work at a hospital as a janitor or something.”

 

“That's unlikely,” Katara said. She shook her head with a frown. “It would be even harder for a janitor to steal that kind of drug. They don't get access codes. And if he managed to use someone else's, it would be noticed almost immediately. The doctors have to account for every drug they're listed as taking. Someone would notice if they were recorded as taking succinylcholine when they didn't.”

 

“Then maybe we _are_ looking for a doctor.” Zuko slumped against his seat. ‘Just not a very good one.”

 

“Ha!” Katara scoffed. “Sounds like a terrible doctor.” She sighed and leaned forward on her elbows and gazed out of the window. “What about the prison?”

 

“What about it?” Zuko asked. Katara looked over at him sharply.

 

“Republic City Penitentiary,” she said. “They perform executions there.” Zuko nodded slowly, uncertain of what she was getting at. Then he froze as understanding dawned on him.

 

“They use succinylcholine in the lethal injections,” he gasped.

 

“Yes!” Katara nodded emphatically. “And the prison hasn't been overhauled in decades. I bet they don't have nearly the level of security as the hospitals.”

 

“That's so obvious!” Zuko cried, pressing his hands against his forehead. “How have we missed that for fifteen years?”  The prison was about an hour's drive from the city. Close enough that Koh might still live in the city, or hunt his victims without drawing anyone's suspicion with frequent visits. Zuko began gathering his things.

 

“I have to look into this,” he said distractedly. “Which hospitals did you say use succinylcholine?”

 

“I'll text them to you.” Katara dug through her purse for her phone. “And I still need to figure out a hotel.”

 

“Let me know as soon as you do,” Zuko said. “I'll make sure you have a ride. Where's the check?” Katara looked around the table in confusion.

 

“The check…?”

 

“Hi again,” the cheerful waitress had returned with their coffee and tea. “I'm so sorry about the wait. We had to brew a new pot of coffee. Would you like to hear the specials?”

 


	7. How Things Fall Apart

**_Chapter 7_ **

 

Zuko kept a spare set of clothes in his  locker for the days he came in directly from working out, or the nights he didn't go home at all. He grabbed his spare shirt and pants  and took a quick shower in the station’s locker room. All the while he turned the new information over and over on his head, fitting it in to what he knew from the old cases and the latest. If Koh really worked at the prison, that meant he was  law enforcement. Zuko wasn't a stranger to corrupt officers, but the idea that someone who had sworn to protect and serve could kill people so cruelly was beyond his comprehension.He pressed his hands against the shower tiles and let the water run through his hair.

 

He didn’t know how it all fit together. The day would be spent sifting through the new leads and scheduling visits to follow up on whichever of them seemed the most promising. Ordinarily, having his leads narrowed so far would be a relief for him, but this time….

 

If none of the leads panned out, then he would be back to square one. The longer it took to find Koh, the longer Katara would be living in a state of fear, even if Koh moved on to a new victim. He couldn’t leave her with that hanging over her head. With a heavy sigh, Zuko shut the water off, and got ready to work. Katara had sent him the names of the hospitals earlier. Zuko decided that his first priority would be getting someone to look into them.

 

“Detective Kaji.” Zuko spun towards his uncle. Iroh had caught him halfway to his desk. The slight look of amused exasperation told Zuko that it wasn’t the first time his uncle had called him.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “What were you saying.”  


“You seem very lost in thought,” Iroh commented. Zuko shrugged.

 

“Got a lot on my mind.”

 

“Koh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright.” Iroh nodded. “Tell me what you’re thinking. We can go into the debriefing room.” Zuko followed him and shut the door behind them.

 

“We may have been to hung up on Koh being a doctor,” Zuko told Iroh. He explained what Bumi had told him the day before, and then the possibility that Katara had brought up that Koh might work at the prison. When he was done, Iroh thought for a long while, worrying at his bottom lip.

 

“That all rather widens our scope,” he said at last. “But Ms. Imiq's information is helpful. We have some of the personnel files for the hospitals. We can begin, at least, looking for records of who was working maintenance 15 years ago to cross reference with any new information we get.”

 

“Right,” Zuko said. “I think I should leave the hospital to the uniforms. I don't know, I think the prison might be the stronger lead.”

 

“Whatever you think is best.” Iroh smiled at his nephew with no small amount of pride. “I trust your instincts on this.”

 

“Thank you, Chief.” Zuko smiled slightly at Iroh. Then the older man cleared his throat.

 

“How are things going with Ms. Imiq?” Iroh asked. “I heard about the incident yesterday morning. She went running alone?” Zuko flinched.

 

“That was not completely her fault,” he explained. “She thought the guy following her had been caught. You know, that guy Jet.”

 

“Oh, yes.” Iroh hadn’t been present for the interrogation of the young man, but he had heard about his combative attitude and his disinclination to give a straight answer. Zuko had spent several more hours than was really necessary trying to get basic information from Jet. It had been a test of patience and an exercise in futility for the detective, and it was in the early hours of the morning before Zuko had been able to release Jet.

 

“Katara has a habit of taking unnecessary risks,” Zuko continued. “But she’s decided to stay at hotel tonight, so...progress, I guess.” Iroh frowned and stroked the end of his beard.

 

“Has she been giving you issues?” he asked. “I can have someone else in charge of her.” Zuko waved him off.

 

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “We actually get along pretty well. For the most part.” Iroh’s frown deepened. Zuko shifted in his seat under his uncle’s sharp gaze. He hadn’t felt this way in his uncle’s presence since he was in college.

 

“Is...is something wrong?” he asked. Iroh blinked, and then smiled.

 

“Not at all,” he said. “It’s just not often that you admit that you get along with someone. Particularly when that someone is a very clever, very attractive young lady.” Had Iroh had a cup of tea, he would have taken a sip. Zuko felt his face heat up and he cleared his throat a bit guilty.

 

“It’s not like that,” he insisted. “Katara’s isn’t hard to get along with, that’s all.” The intensity bled back into Iroh’s gaze for a minute. Then he smiled and nodded his head.

  
“I know you very well,” he said at last. “I trust you to keep everything above board. You of all people wouldn't allow this situation to become a conflict of interests.” Zuko released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

 

“Yes...well,” Zuko cleared his throat again. “I should call the prison. I'd like to stop by if I can.” Iroh waved his hand in dismissal. Zuko hurried back to his desk and fought the blush still in his cheeks.

 

“Hey Zuko!”  Jin leaned against the side of Zuko’s desk. Zuko flinched in surprise, but he managed a small smile.

 

“Oh hi, Jin,” he greeted her.

 

'How's it going?”  Jin asked cheerfully.

 

“Not bad.” Zuko turned his chair to face her. “I’m really glad you’re here.” Jin stood up straighter and her smile grew wider.

 

“You are?”

 

“Sure am!” Zuko scribbled the names of the two hospitals on a sticky note and handed it to her. Then he explained the new lead on the succinylcholine.

 

“I need you to call up these hospitals and see if they’re available to answer a few questions,” Zuko told Jin. “I’ll email you exactly what I need to know from them.”  

 

“Oh!” Jin took half a step back. Her cheeks flushed lightly. “I thought...um...Well, anyway…” She looked down at the paper in her hand. “Wait, you want _me_ to investigate this?”

 

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “I have to go to Republic City Pen, so it would really help me out if you could handle these phone interviews. I don’t think these leads will go anywhere, but we need all our bases covered.” Zuko smiled at Jin apologetically. “I know it sounds like busy work, but it’s actually really important. I trust you with it.”

 

“Thank you!” Jin’s smile grew to a beaming grin. “I won’t let you down.” Zuko nodded and turned back to his computer. The number for the penitentiary should be in the police department’s directory.  Jin hovered at his elbow, though. He looked up questioningly.

 

“Something wrong?” he asked. Jin shook her head.

 

“I was just wondering if you’d thought…” she trailed off mid-sentence and cleared her throat. “You know what? It’s not important right now.  Don’t worry about it.” She cleared her throat again. “So, the penitentiary is the new angle, eh? How’d you get there?” Zuko turned in his chair to face her. There was a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Katara's suggested it,” he said. He told Jin what happened.  “She worked with the hospitals as part of her research not long ago. She knows how they operate, and she was able to narrow down the hospitals that would have succinylcholine to these two. And she gave me the tip about the penitentiary, too.” Jin's smile froze in place.

 

“Lucky for us,” she said. She added under her breath. “Maybe _she_ should be a detective.”

 

“Huh?” Zuko's brow furrowed in confusion. Jin laughed and waved him off.

 

“Oh, nothing,” she said breezily. Her smile shifted again. It was almost wistful. “You...get along with her pretty well, huh?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Zuko said. He shrugged self-consciously. “She's not hard to get along with. I mean, you spent time with her yesterday. What did you think.”

 

Jin froze. A lot of things ran through her head to say, but after a moment, she decided to tell the truth. With a small shrug, she told Zuko,

 

“She's really nice. And she's clearly very smart.” Jin folded her arms and looked down at the tops of her impeccably shined shoes. “She's very pretty, too. I get it.”

 

“Get what?” Zuko asked. The baffled expression on his  face almost made Jin laugh, but not quite.

 

“You're a good detective,” she said, managing a smile as she turned to leave. “You'll figure it out. Anyway, I'll go look into this.”

 

Zuko frowned after Jin for a moment, but shook his confusion quickly. He had work to do. The first thing was to contact the penitentiary.

 

After about twenty minutes of being passed up the chain of command, and a surprisingly short conversation, Zuko was scheduled to meet with the warden, a woman named Jun Hei, that afternoon. He was relieved. It was almost never this easy to get an interview. As soon as he hung up with the warden, and updated Iroh on his plans, he prepared to go.

 

**Bzzz**

**Bzzz**

**Bzzz**

 

Zuko paused halfway in his car and took out his phone. Katara's expectant face stared up from the screen.

 

“You don't _have_ to video call me,” Zuko greeted her.  Katara’s brow quirked up.

 

“And deny you the pleasure of a face to face conversation with me? I don't think so.” Zuko chuckled in spite of himself.

 

“I'm about to get in the car,” he told her. “What's up?”

 

“I'll be quick,” Katara promised. “I just wanted to let you know that I found a hotel for the night.”

 

“Great,” Zuko drawled sarcastically. “And that couldn't be a text message because…?” Katara shrugged.

 

“I'm bored,” she said. “I needed to see another human being. I figured you'd do.” Katara smiled mischievously.  Zuko just rolled his eyes.

 

“Well, I have a job to do now,” he retorted. “Text me the details. I'll send someone to take you.”

 

“A police escort to a hotel.” Katara shook her head. “Well, maybe they'll think I'm famous and give me free room service.” Zuko shifted the phone from one hand to the other, so he could reach the seat belt.

 

“If they think you're famous, they'll probably think you've got enough money to pay for room service yourself.”

 

“Do you think the rich and famous get rich by actually _paying_ for things?” Katara chuckled condescendingly. “No, dear boy. When you're famous, people give you stuff for free so you can save your money for important things, like fancy hair and multiple divorces.” Zuko laughed at that.

 

“If you say so. Text me the info, okay? I really have to go. I'll call you later.”  

 

“Aye aye, sir.” Katara saluted at the camera, and then hung up. Zuko tossed his phone on the passenger seat and pulled out onto the road. His phone buzzed, alerting him to a new message-Katara, he assumed- but was silent for the rest of the trip. He wondered if Jin was having any luck with the hospitals.

 

Republic City Penitentiary was an anachronism. A fortress ripped from some long  ago time, built of stone brick and patrolled by armed guards walking along the parapets. It stuck out among the suburban sprawl just down the road from its outer walls, yet despite that, the building wasn't out of place. It was as if the prison had always been there, and the town had grown up around it. Zuko turned down the unassuming gravel road to the guest parking lot. The weight of the silence pressed in like a barrier from the rest of the town.  

 

There was no one in the parking lot when Zuko arrived. He pulled into an empty spot at the far end of the lot and looked around. The trees surrounding the prison did little to hide it from the outside, but from inside the walls, Zuko couldn't see the low buildings of the town. It was eerily quiet and isolated. Zuko locked his car and headed towards the main building. The sooner he got in the sooner he could leave.

 

The inside was  mundane. There was a small, drab reception area directly ahead, presided over by a bored looking middle aged man in uniform. Before him was a short line of people holding slips of paper. Visitors, Zuko figured. Two more officers stood nearby, guiding people through the metal detector by a heavy metal door that must have led to the visitation room inside the prison.

 

Zuko caught the attention of than at the desk and flashed his badge at him. The guard nodded at him and motioned him off to the side. He turned his attention to the woman at the front of the line.

 

“Ma'am, I can't let you in without the inmate number,” he said. The woman scowled and snatched her visitor form from the formica counter.

 

“I don't didn't know I had to write it down,” she insisted. “It wasn't on the list of things to bring with me. Can't you just look him up on your computer?” The officer shook his head.

 

“It's against protocol, and it's not worth me getting fired over. You can try again next week if you don't have his number.” The woman stomped her foot angrily, but Zuko could see tears forming in her eyes.

 

“I live four hours away!” she insisted. “And I have kids. I can't do this trip again next week.”

 

“Sorry, lady,” the officer replied with a shrug. The woman glared at him before storming away, muttering some choice words and and digging through her purse for her phone.

 

“Mom,” she said as she ducked into the waiting area. “I need you to look something up for me…” The officer waved Zuko over, to the annoyance of the rest of the people in line. Zuko raised his hand apologetically, but the officer didn’t react to the cutting glares at all.

 

“How can I help you?” he asked Zuko.   


“I’m Detective Zuko Kaji from Republic City PD,” he explained. “I’m here to see Warden Hei.” The officer nodded.

 

“She told me you were coming. Wait over there. Someone will take you to her shortly.”  The officer picked up the phone and spoke briefly to someone and hung up. Then he went back to processing forms without another glance at Zuko. The detective found a chair in an unobtrusive corner of the waiting area and sat quietly.

 

He wound up waiting for about ten minutes for his escort. When the new man finally showed up, Zuko was surprised how old he looked. He seemed to be around Iroh’s age, just past too old for this job, yet here he was, escorting Zuko around as if he were a fresh recruit doing grunt work.

 

“How's it going?” He asked Zuko cheerfully. At least he had a good sense of humor about his job. Or maybe he was still in this position by choice.

 

“Alright,” Zuko replied. “You?” The guard shrugged.

 

“Oh, can't complain.” The officer scratched his craggy chin with a contented sigh. “Just thinking about getting home to the wife's cooking. Maybe challenging my oldest boy to a game of kuai ball.” He chuckled.

 

“Sounds nice,” Zuko mumbled. It really did. Zuko wondered if he'd ever get to a point in his life where he could feel as quietly content.

 

“So, you're a detective in the big city?” The officer looked Zuko over curiously, his eyes lingering just a little too long on Zuko's scar. “What brings you way out here?”

 

“Can't really say,” Zuko responded shortly. “It's an official investigation. I need to speak to the warden first.” The officer nodded.

 

“Gotcha.” He stopped them outside of a door with frosted glass. A small woman sat at a small desk just outside.

 

“Yes?” She asked. She didn't even glance up from the computer.

 

“Got the detective here to see Warden.” The woman, the warden's secretary, finally looked up.

 

“She's expecting you,” she said. “Give her a few minutes to finish a call, and she'll be right with you.” The woman flashed a perfunctory polite smile then went back to what ever had claimed her focus on the computer screen.

 

“Thanks,” Zuko said, aiming his reply at both people in front of him. The officer waved cheerfully.

 

“Not a problem,” he chirruped. “If you need anything else, just ask for me. Name's Yon Rha.” Zuko nodded.

 

“Sure.” Yon Rha spun on his heels and disappeared around the corner. Zuko remembered then that he had his own call to make. He pulled out his phone and quickly scanned Katara's text from earlier. Then he called the precinct.

 

“Republic City police department,” Biyu greeted tiredly. “How may I direct your call?”

 

“Biyu, it's Zuko. I need you to ask Haru to give Katara a ride. She's going to a hotel for the night.”

 

“Oh! I don't blame her a bit, poor thing!” Biyu suddenly sounded much more energetic. Zuko gave her the details, and hung up just in time for the door to the warden's office to swing open.

 

Jun Hei, the warden of the prison was a woman in her late-thirties. She was  a few inches shorter than Zuko with a curvy frame and lips painted a deep almost burgundy red. She was strikingly pretty, but what caught Zuko's immediate attention was her razor sharp gaze. Her light brown eyes scanned him toe to top, as if sizing him up. Zuko was fairly certain she was trying to decide if she could take him in a fight. He was also fairly certain she could.

 

“Come in, Detective,” she said at last. “Tell me what this is about.”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

Katara zipped her duffel bag shut just as the doorbell rang. She checked her watch. It was a bit early for her ride to be there, but not by too much.

 

“Just a minute!” she shouted down the stairs. She hoped that her escort could hear her as she rushed around her room, shoving her laptop and charger into her purse. At the very least, maybe she could put a dent in her thesis while she was away. After she spent an hour or two at the pool, of course.

 

Katara sent a quick text to Zuko and Sokka, letting them know she was heading to the hotel and promised to let them know when she got to her room. Then she tossed her phone into her bag with her computer and ran down the stairs. She opened the door to a tall uniformed man with iron grey hair standing on the stoop outside. She smiled politely as she stepped aside to let him into the vestibule. She noticed that his uniform was darker than she thought it should be, but she shrugged it off. Zuko didn’t wear a uniform, and the only other officer she had any extended interaction with was Jin. Maybe there was more than one version of the uniform.

 

“Hello,” she greeted him. “I just need to grab my shoes.”

 

“Oh, there’s no need,” the officer said.

 

“What?” Katara looked up in confusion just in time to see him swing something dark and heavy towards her. Her vision exploded into bright stars and then went dark as she landed in  a heap on the floor.

 

Koh tossed the rock aside and rolled Katara onto her back. He wiped the blood away from her face and sighed. He had been aiming for the back of her head. He wasn’t sure if he’d have time to let any bruises on her face heal.

 

 _Oh well,_ he thought, scooping Katara’s still form into his arms. _There was no helping it now._ Someone would be by soon, and he needed to be gone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. The Prisoner

 

Jun Hei took a long sip of her coffee, her gaze never leaving Zuko. It was unnerving, but Zuko figured that was not a bad trait for the warden of a prison to have. He pulled out a few files from the case and passed them to Jun.

 

“These are coroners reports from some victims on a case I’m working on,” he told Jun. She picked up the first folder and flipped through it while Zuko explained the case.

 

“Gruesome stuff,” she said. “What’s this got to do with us?” Zuko cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.  
  
“There is evidence that Koh is using succinylcholine,” he replied. “There are only three places with relatively easy access to it. Two hospitals in the city and...um…”

“The prison where death penalties are carried out,” Jun finished for him. Zuko nodded, still nervous, but meeting Jun’s gaze levelly. Jun leaned back in her chair and quirked an eyebrow. “That’s quite a theory. How certain are you that the killer is one of my guys?”

 

“Well, until my  investigation is over, I can’t be completely certain about anything,” Zuko said. Jun’s lips quirked up into a sardonic smile.

 

“Good answer, Detective.”  She set the folder down and leaned forward on the desk. Her hands were clasped together under her chin. “I assume the hospitals are being given the same treatment.”

 

“I have someone looking into those leads, yes.” Zuko took a deep breath and settled back into his seat. He crossed his ankle over his leg. “I’m a big believer in covering all my bases.”

 

“I see,” Jun said. She sighed and flipped through another folder. “You know, I am pretty well acquainted with someone else from your precinct. Tell me, Detective Kaji, are you by any chance related to Chief Iroh Kaji?” Zuko blinked in surprise.

  
“He’s my uncle,” he said. “That has nothing to do with this. The Chief doesn’t play favorites. He wouldn’t have put me in charge of this case if he didn’t think I was ready.” Jun made a placating gesture at him.

 

“Calm down, Junior,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I know Chief Kaji well enough to know he wouldn’t play the nepotism game. Not in such an egregious way. I’ve met your sister, too, you know. I’m just curious why I haven’t seen you around here before.” Zuko’s jaw tightened.

 

“I haven’t had a reason to visit before today,” he said firmly. Jun’s eyebrows shot up behind her dark bangs.

 

“Touchy subject,” she commented. “Duly noted. As to the actual reason you’re here, of course you can investigate. You’ll have access to all of our files. I’ll make sure Meng- my secretary- gets you all the files on a zip drive.”

 

“Thank you.” Zuko started to rise.

 

“One more thing,” Jun said. Zuko froze midway to  his feet. “Off the record, how likely do you think that one of _my_ guys is Koh?” Zuko considered his answer before he replied.

 

“If it comes down to the prison verses the hospitals,” he said at last, “my money is here. The drug is monitored pretty closely at the hospital. They would have noticed if someone was stealing succinylcholine almost immediately.” Jun nodded gravely. She reached over to her phone and buzzed her secretary.

 

“Meng,” she said in a clipped tone. “Detective Kaji needs access to some files. Please see to it that he has everything he need.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Meng said. Zuko went out to find Meng waiting for him by her desk. She was a short, plump matronly woman with a no-nonsense gleam in her eyes. She was every bit as intimidating as Jun, but in a very different way.

 

“What do you need first?” Meng asked.

 

“I need to know where the prison stores succinylcholine and who has access to it,”Zuko said. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and added, “...ma'am.”

 

The corner of Meng's mouth quirked up into a slight, quick smile.

 

“That's easy,” she said. “It's stored in our medical center. I'll take you there. As to who has access to it... unfortunately I believe that's everyone on staff. Our security in certain areas of the prison isn't where it should be.”

 

“Have you had issues with drugs being stolen?” Zuko asked. Meng sighed and nodded.

 

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “This place doesn’t tend to bring out the best in people. Substance abuse problems aren’t uncommon, and sometimes guards will steal drugs. Nothing so intense as succinylcholine- you can’t really get high off of it. The warden is fighting to get the funding to overhaul the security for our medical supplies.” Zuko nodded. He knew how hard it could be to convince bureaucrats that your organization needed the extremely limited public funds.

 

Meng turned and lead the way deeper into the prison. They didn’t pass through the area were the inmates were kept, but they got close enough that Zuko could hear them. His eyes lingered on the door leading to the cell blocks. He turned back to find Meng staring at him. He cleared his throat and walked faster.

 

“You know, I’ve met your uncle a few times,” she said. Zuko just grunted in response uncertain where he was going. Meng cast him a sidelong glance. “He’s _very_ charming. You’ll tell him hello for me?” Zuko flushed bright red. He had not been expecting that.

 

“Um...s-sure,” he stammered. Then he turned his head so Meng wouldn’t see him rolle his eyes. Trust Iroh to find someone to flirt with in a prison. They stopped outside of a heavy metal door with bars in the window. Meng pulled out an ID badge swiped it through the scanner.

 

“Here we are,” she said. She held the door open to let Zuko pass and followed behind him. She waved to a small elderly man in a doctor’s jacket sitting behind a desk. He had wispy grey hair, on top of which rested a pair of thick glasses. Zuko guessed he must be pressing eighty, and he wondered why he hadn’t retired to someplace warm a long time ago. He smiled when he saw Meng enter.

 

“Meng,’ he greeted her affably. “I see you have a gentleman caller. Should I be jealous?” He nodded towards Zuko.

 

“You should, Dr. Morimoto.” Meng winked at him. “But not of him. This is Detective Kaji from Republic City PD. He wants to ask you a few questions about our drugs.”

 

“Well.” Dr. Morimoto dropped his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and studied Zuko closer. “This sounds serious.”

 

“It is,” Meng assured him. “I'll leave you to it. Dr. Morimoto can call me if you need me.”  Meng gave the men one last nod and left. Dr. Morimoto turned his solemn gaze to Zuko.

 

“How can I help you, Detective Kaji?”

 

“I need to know who has access to your supply of succinylcholine, and who may have accessed it recently.” Zuko explained the case, and told him how he had narrowed the places the drug could have been accessed to the two hospitals in the city and to the prison. Dr. Morimoto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“I wish I could be optimistic that it wasn’t from our supply,” he said. “But I know how tight security is at those hospitals.”

 

“We don't know anything for certain,” Zuko warned him. Dr. Morimoto raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“But you have an educated guess,” he stated more than said. He didn't wait for a reply. He stood up and went to a filing cabinet. “While you look through these, I'll check to see if we're missing any vials.” He pulled a few folders all dated for the past three months and laid them out on his desk for Zuko.

 

“Is there anyone who came in who stood out to you most?” he asked. He picked up the file dated closest to the discovery of the latest body and flipped through it. Dr. Morimoto scratched his head and turned his eyes towards the ceiling.

 

“Nothing springs immediately to mind…” he said. Then he froze. He turned back at Zuko. “Actually, there is one thing.” Zuko looked up from the file.

 

“What?” He asked. Dr. Morimoto went back to the filing cabinet and grabbed another folder.

 

“It's probably nothing,” he murmured. “But a few weeks ago, a guard came in a few times for things that made no sense. Qtips; gauze; ace bandages. Once he walked out with a box of tongue depressors. Naturally, I thought he was trying to get to the heavy narcotics, but I checked the morphine and oxycodone, and I had the right amount. I didn't think to check the succinylcholine.”

 

“Do you know which guard it was?”  The doctor flipped the folder open.

 

“I made a note of it,” he said. “Let's see… here it is. It was Yon Rha, the guard from cell block B.” Zuko thought back to the guard who had taken him to see Jun. The idea of him being a serial killer was almost laughable, but by this point Zuko knew better than to dismiss anything without examining the proof.

 

“Before we start speculating, let's see of you're actually missing the drug.”

 

“Ah...yes.” Dr. Morimoto opened something on his computer. A moment later the printer booted up and spat out paper. He explained, “My inventory list. The warden and I are the only ones with access.”

 

Dr. Morimoto led Zuko further into the back office, where the medical supplies were held. There were shelves full of basic supplies lining two walls leading to another door, this one closed with a heavy padlock. That, Dr. Morimoto informed him, was where they kept the heavy drugs.

 

“This actually looks pretty secure,” Zuko commented. “It’s not high tech, but a good lock is sometimes as good as the best security system.” He went up and inspected the padlock.  

“Well, then,” Dr. Morimoto said, pulling out his keys. “Maybe we’re in for a pleasant surprise.” He flipped the light switch in the drug storage room and made his way to a shelf in the back, checking some of the more potent against his list. He led Zuko to the refrigerator in the farthest corner. The succinylcholine was on the middle shelf, and it looked full, but then Dr. Morimoto frowned and looked at his list. Then he counted the vials and looked at his list again.

 

“There are two vials missing,” he said at last. “I don’t know how, but someone got in.” Zuko scanned the room.

 

“Are you sure that you and Warden Hei are the only ones with keys to the lock?” he asked. “Where do you keep the keys?”

 

“As far as I know we both keep them on our key rings,” Dr. Morimoto replied. Zuko’s eyes landed on something on the floor in the corner.

 

“Was there ever a point where your keys weren’t on you?” He walked over to the object. It looked like a piece of shiny scrap paper. “Maybe someone copied the key?” Dr. Morimoto shook his head and shut the refrigerator.

 

“Not mine,” he said. “I used to lose my keys all the time and my wife got sick of rushing home to let me in, so she got me one of those extendable key holders.” He pushed his lab coat back and pulled his keys out of his pants pocket. They were attached to his belt by what looked like a miniature leash. He let them go and they snapped back to his side with a cheerful jingle. “I’ve had this  for about five years. Haven’t lost my keys since. Left them at home a few times, but…” He shrugged his shoulders.

 

Zuko grunted in response. He crouched down in the corner by the door and peered at the scrap. It wasn’t paper after all. It was a piece of metal. Zuko grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the supply shelf and picked it up. It was a piece of an aluminum can, judging by the bit of design on the other side. It had been cut with one edge in a wavy shape, and bent as if it had been caught in something.

  
“What have you got there?” Dr. Morimoto camed to look over Zuko’s shoulder. He adjusted his glasses for a closer look. “What is that?” Zuko held it in two fingers and studied it closely.

 

“It looks like a shim,” he said.

 

“A what?”  Dr. Morimoto blinked in confusion. Zuko went to the outside of the door and closed the padlock. Then he wrapped the bit of metal around the locking part of the padlock and slid it down into the mechanism. Then he pulled the padlock open. Dr. Morimoto’s mouth fell open.

 

“I guess we know how the perp got in,” he said grimly. “You said Yon Rha was acting strangely a few weeks ago? Was there anyone else?”

 

“No one obvious,” he said. “But I have a list of people who have been in the supply room in the last few weeks. I’ll get it to you.”

 

“Thanks.” Zuko wrapped the shim in gauze and tucked it into another glove. “I’d like to speak to Yon Rah while I’m here.” Dr. Morimoto nodded and ran to his phone. Zuko heard him speaking with Jun as he looked around the room for more clues. The doctor came back a few moments later with an apologetic look on his face.

 

“Yon Rah left for  the day,” he told Zuko. “Something about his kid getting sick at school. Bad luck, I guess.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

 

“I guess,” he repeated. He tucked the glove into his pocket and left the room, so Dr. Morimoto could lock up.

 

“I'll be in touch with the list in the next day ortwo _,_ ” Dr. Morimoto promised. Zuko bowed slightly and left the doctor's office. He stopped by Jun's office on the way out, but the warden had left for the day already, so he left.

 

Zuko  had left his phone on silent during his visit. When he saw the missed messages  from Jin and Katara, he was glad for it. He checked Katara's text first.

 

 _My driver's here,_ she informed him. _Will call when I'm checked in._  

 

The time stamp was from almost half an hour earlier. Zuko frowned at that. It shouldn't have taken that long to get to the hotel. But he told himself that she was probably just getting settled in. If she hadn't called by the time he hit the highway, he promised himself he'd call to check on her, and then he moved on to Jin's message. This time it was a voicemail.

 

“Hey, it's Jin. I called both hospitals, and they assured me that there's no way anyone stole drugs  without getting caught. I gotta say, I think I believe them. They both went over their security protocol, and Katara's right. It's super tight. They're faxing over their records on who accessed the drug supply, when, and what they took. I'll look it over, but I think this is a dead lead. I hope you're having better luck. Talk to you later.”

 

Zuko hung up and sighed. He had expected as much, but it didn't make the idea that Koh was probably in law enforcement any easier. He pulled out of the parking lot and put the prison behind him for the moment. At least he seemed to be closing in on Koh. And with Katara's brother coming home the next day, Zuko would have some breathing room to investigate.

 

The phone rang just as Zuko merged onto the highway. He smirked as he pressed the call accept button on the steering wheel.

 

“You've got amazing timing,” he greeted who could only be Katara.

 

'Detective Kaji,” replied a frantic voice that was definitely not Katara. “It's Haru. Ms. Imiq is gone!”

 

“ _What_?” Zuko nearly slammed his brakes on. He managed to control hself long enough to pull over on the shoulder. He took a breath to calm himself. “Haru, where are you? What's going on?”

 

“I'm at Ms. Imiq's house. The door is unlocked and I-I-I knocked and I called her name, but…I opened it and she's not here. Detective, there's blood on the floor.”

 

\------------

 

The first thing Katara was aware of was the pain in her head. It radiated from her left temple and ran down the side of her neck. She moved to press her hand to her head, only to find she couldn't move her arms. That's when she became aware of the chair she was sitting on, and the duct tape binding her by her arms and legs to it. There was more duct tape across her mouth, trapping a scream in her throat.

 

 _Don't panic!_ Katara thought frantically. Her breath was coming out of her nose in short shallow bursts, and the edges of her vision were beginning to blur.

 

_Don't panic!_

 

Katara shut her eyes and focused on steadying her breath. After a few minutes, it had more or less steadied. When she opened her eyes again, she could take in her surroundings. It was a dark, windowless room. It looked industrial, like a warehouse. That combined with the subtle but pungent smell of seawater led Katara to believe that she was being held near the docks.

 

There was a dim bare bulb hanging in the middle of the room. It dangled over nothing in particular, and left the rest of the room in shadow, but Katara could make out what looked like a hospital cot in one corner of the room. Behind it was a tall thin object with a wide head, which Katara could only assume was a lamp to light the table when Koh…

 

The panic, still simmering below her skin, almost swallowed her up again when she realized where she was.

 

The lock on the door clicked, and the heavy iron door swung open. A tall slender man stood  in the doorway, but Katara couldn't see his face. Then he flicked a switch by the door, and fluorescent lights illuminated the room. Katara recognized him immediately. The officer who had come to drive her to the hotel. Koh. He wasn't in uniform anymore, instead he wore loose dark pants and a long sleeve grey t-shirt.

 

Katara's eyes narrowed at him and she tried to yell at him, forgetting momentarily about the tape over her mouth. Koh chuckled crossing the room towards her. There was a condescending and almost paternal look on his face.

 

“None of that now,” he said. Katara realized he was carrying a bucket full of soapy water. Koh glanced down at it with a smile. “I don't like using duct tape on people's faces. It tends to irritate the skin. I'm going to take this off of you now. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I couldn't have you screaming while you were in the trunk.” He reached into the bucket and pulled out a rag. He squeezed the excess water out and brought it up to Katara's face. She reeled back and almost knocked the chair over, but Koh reached out and steadied her. Katara shuddered at the feeling of his damp hand over hers, but Koh paid no mind.

 

“This isn't going to hurt,” he assured her gently. “This is just to loosen the tape.” Koh pressed the cloth to Katara's mouth and held it there. Katara struggled against his touch, but he was deceptively strong beneath the loose fitting shirt.

 

“Don't fight me,” Koh ordered. His tone was still light and conversational, but there was a threatening edge. “I don't want to bruise you anymore than you already are.” Koh clicked his tongue sadly and brushed his fingers against the lump forming on her head. “I wanted you perfect, but I'm not sure I'll have time to let this heal.”

 

The tape was loosening. Katara could feel the glue releasing her skin. She pulled her head away from Koh and tried to blow the tape off of her mouth. Koh reached up and grasped the end of the tape.

 

“I won’t tell you not to scream,” he told her, pulling the tape off her face gently in case all the glue wasn’t melted. “No one ever listens to me when I say it anyway. You can scream as loud as you want. It won’t bother me. No one will hear you, anyway. Brick walls, you know. Ah! There we are.”

 

Koh pulled the tape completely off of Katara’s mouth. He watched her expectantly for a moment, waiting for either screaming or pleading. Katara didn’t do either. Instead glared at him intensely. Then she reared back and spat in his face. Koh stumbled backwards and wiped at it. Katara watched him, her body tensed and trembling in expectation of retaliation. To her surprise, he laughed.

 

“No one’s done that before,” he said. He took the damp rag and wiped the spit from his face. “I’ll say this, you’re the most spirited member of my collection.”

 

“Untie me and I’ll show you spirit,” Katara threatened him. Koh laughed again.

 

“Soon enough,” he promised. He pressed his lips together and regarded Katara sympathetically. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m not. I’m an artist. I see things that others don’t see. There’s so much beauty in the world around us, in the faces of people who we pass everyday on the street, but almost no one sees it.” Koh stood up and walked over to a shelf across the room from Katara. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could see it was full of jars. Koh grabbed one and ran his fingers over it gently before he turned back to Katara, cradling the jar close to his chest.

 

“I followed the investigation the first time around, you know,’ he said. “I know it’s not generally a good idea for an artist to pay too close attention to their critics, but- what can I say?- it’s irresistible sometimes.” He let out a self deprecating laugh. “You know what they said about my work all those years ago?”

 

“I don’t know,” Katara snorted. “Something along the lines of _‘this guy is completely wacked and needs a bullet in the head’_?” Koh looked up at her and shook his head.

 

“No,” he said. “Actually, they accused my of choosing my victims at random. Because those _detectives_ are too blind to see. I didn’t choose randomly. I chose what caught my eye. A young man with skin pock marked in the most interesting pattern. A middle aged woman with crows feet around her eyes and smile lines framing her pouting lips.” Koh smiled fondly at Katara. “A beautiful waitress with skin like the smoothest melted chocolate.”  

 

Katara shuddered and forced down the bile that had risen in her throat. Koh didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. He turned his soft gaze down to the jar in his hands.

 

“I find beauty in  so many diverse places,” he murmured. “In youth and age. In beauty and in the flaws.” Koh turned the jar around in his hands and held it up for Katara to see.

 

In the jar, suspended in a yellowish green liquid,  was the face of an old man with a grey mustache and bushy grey brows. His empty eyes gazed back at Katara. This time she did scream.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she shouted. “Let me go! _Let me go!_ ” Katara fought against her binds so hard, the chair rocked wildy. Finally, it tilted too far to the left and Katara crashed to the floor. Her head bounced against the floor painfully, aggravating her earlier wound and adding new ones. Her chin scraped the concrete floor. She cried out in pain and began to sob. Koh hurriedly replaced the jar on the shelf and rushed to Katara’s side.

 

“Now look what you’ve done,” he chided her. “I don’t think I’m going to have enough time to let these heal completely.” Koh sighed and tilted Katara’s chin towards him. Tears mixed with blood and ran over his fingers. “Don’t cry, Katara. It’ll be fine. The bruises will add some character to your face. Every piece of art tells a story. This one will show that you’re a fighter.” He stood up, but didn’t right Katara’s chair. “Don’t you see? I’m going to make you immortal.”

 

He shut off the light and closed the door behind him, leaving Katara still lying on her side in the dark room.

\-----------


	9. Time

 

Zuko saw the flashing lights of police cruisers long before he turned onto Katara’s block. There were officers milling around, and crime scene tape holding back neighbors and curious onlookers while CSI did their jobs. Haru spotted Zuko and ran over to the car. He was on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he babbled before Zuko had gotten out of the car. “I’m so sorry. I should have called her. I should have left sooner. I...I…”

“Calm down, Haru.” Zuko placed his hands on the officer's shoulders as much to comfort him as to get him out of the way. Zuko climbed out of the car and started walking towards the house.

“What happened?” Zuko asked Haru. He ducked under the police tape and flashed his badge to one of the investigators.

“I'm not sure,” Haru said. “Like I told you earlier, I tried the door when I didn't get an answer, and there was blood on the floor... and...and I-”

“Panicked.” Zuko turned to find Jin standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and a dark scowl aimed at Haru. “I'm surprised you didn't piss on the floor.”

Haru flinched, but met Jin's eyes with a hard glare of his own. His fists balled at his sides and he leaned forward ready for a fight.

“I didn't panic!” he snapped. “I followed protocol.” Jin let out a derisive snort that caught Zuko by surprise.

“If by followed protocol, you mean neglected to secure the scene or look for the perp, then yeah. It was totally by the Complete Coward's Guide to Solving Crime. Honestly, why did you even-”

“I don't have to take this from you!” Haru cut in. “I did what I was supposed to-”

“Would you both cut it out?” Zuko's voice cut into the bickering angrily. “Agni! We don't have time for this. What do we know so far?”

“Just what I told you,” Haru said nervously.

“Have you canvassed the neighborhood yet?” Zuko pressed. “Did anyone see anything?” Haru and Jin exchanged a glance before the shook their heads.

“Everything's been going so fast…” Jin's face blushed in embarrassment. But Zuko was relieved.

“I want you two on that,” he ordered the officers. “And if I hear that you are bickering while you're working, I'll have you both brought up on disciplinary charges. We have a very small window to save Katara. You need to be on top of your game right now. Am I clear?”

 

Haru and Jin nodded shamefacedly. Zuko dismissed them with a wave and the ran off to carry out his instructions. Zuko sighed and turned back to the crime scene. As Haru warned him, there was a dried pool of blood on the tiles by the front door. It didn’t wasn’t enough to signify a fatal wound, and for that Zuko was grateful. He didn’t want to think about her physical condition beyond that. Not before he found her.

Another officer came up to him, and this time Zuko was able to get a more complete picture of what had happened. It wasn't much to go on still. The crime scene unit was still in the middle of gathering evidence, but they let Zuko inside once he had put on the protective paper shoes, glove, and mesh hairnet.

“It looks like everything happened here,” one of the investigators told Zuko. “We did a preliminary search, but nothing else looks like it was disturbed.” She pointed out Katara's duffel bag and purse sitting neatly near the door, and a single sneaker not far from them. “We found the other just outside the door. My guess is she let our guy in and he clocked her while she was getting her shoes on. She had some reason to trust him. Either she knew him or-”

“Or she thought he was her ride.” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. He had met Koh face to face.  
Had had a conversation with him. He'd gotten just close enough to spook the killer, but he hadn't figured it out fast enough. And now Katara was missing.

“We found her phone.” The investigator- Zuko was sure he'd heard her name before- held up the phone, now in a plastic evidence baggie. “Someone named Sokka has called three times in the last hour.”

“That's her brother,” Zuko sighed. The investigator held her hands up and backed away.

“That's way above my pay grade.” Zuko forced down a wave of anger- a person was missing. Katara was missing! But, Zuko remembered how detached he usually was on a case, and he knew he couldn't hold it against the CSI who hadn't met Katara, or gone running with her, and didn't know that she preferred coffee to tea. She hadn't sworn she would keep Katara safe.

“I'll answer if he calls again,” he said. Sokka should be getting on a plane soon anyway. Maybe he wouldn't get the chance to-

 _**BUZZZ** _  
_**BUZZZ** _  
_**BUZZZ** _

Zuko rolled his eyes as Sokka's name popped up on the screen. He hadn't even gotten to fool himself for a whole minute. The CSI winced and hurried to busy herself with some asinine task, leaving Zuko to handle Sokka on his own. He took a breath and accepted the call just before it stopped ringing.

“Mr. Imiq,” he greeted Katara's brother grimly. “It's Detective Kaji-”

“Where's Katara?” Sokka demanded. Zuko shut his eyes.

“...Sokka, I'm sorry-” Sokka cut him off.

“No!” Sokka was shouting now. “No! I don't want to hear _you're sorry_! What happened to my sister?” Zuko held the plastic bag encased phone pressed to his ear, despite the ringing. He figured Sokka deserved someone to let out on.

“Koh has her,” he told Sokka quietly. There was no reason he saw to dance around the fact. For a moment the silence on the other end let Zuko hope he had made the right choice. Then Sokka's mind caught up with the news. He said things that Zuko hadn't heard even from hardened criminals.

“Sir, _please_ ,” Zuko heard someone, probably a security guard say. “You can't-”

“ _Don't touch me_!” Sokka bellowed. “Tell me where my sister is!” Zuko ran his free hand over his face.

“Sir, I'm going to ask you to come with me,” said the security guard.

“No!” Sokka sounded near tears now. “My flight is about to board. I have to...to…”

“Sokka,” Zuko cut in authoritatively. “Please calm down. Let me speak to the guard.”

“Calm down!” Sokka snapped.”I-”

“Sokka!” Zuko raised his voice, but he kept his own anxiety out of it while he tried to help Sokka. “I'm so sorry. I know it's asking a lot of you right now, but you have to listen to me. Calm down so they'll let you on the plane.” Sokka agreed begrudgingly, and handed his phone to the security guard.

“Hello?” The unfamiliar voice greeted.

“This is Detective Zuko Kaji from the Republic City police department, Zuko told him. “The man you're speaking to just got some really bad news, but he's not a danger to anyone on the plane.”

“I don't know, man,” the guard said. “The guy just started screaming and cussing a blue streak. He scared a lot of people. And the way he’s looking at me now...”

“I know, I know,” Zuko said. His fingers squeezed the bridge of his nose. “That's partly my fault. I'm sorry. But the situation is extremely sensitive. Please don't stop him from boarding.”

“What happened?” Zuko was fairly certain that the man was just being nosey, but if it got Sokka on his flight, Zuko decided it was worth indulging him.

“His sister has been kidnapped,” he told the guard. “She's his only family. I'm sure you can understand his reaction.”

“Aw geeze!” The guard gasped. He spoke to Sokka next. “I'm sorry, man. I'll let you get on the plane. But you can't blow up like that again. Alright?” Zuko heard Sokka grumble something, then he had his phone back.

“I'll be home early tomorrow morning,” Sokka said. He sounded drained. Zuko's heart clenched in sympathy. He hated dealing with families of victims.

“We'll find her,” Zuko promised. The words must have sounded as hollow to Sokka as they had to Zuko. Sokka snorted in disbelief.

“Detective,” he said.

“Yeah?” Zuko waited for the accusations to come.

“If that guy hurts her, I'll kill him.” That was a promise. Sokka hung up before Zuko could say anything else. Zuko stared at the darkened screen, and then sighed. He waved the CSI he had been speaking with earlier and gave the phone back to her.

Jin and Haru returned not long after Sokka's call. The air between them was still cool, but they weren’t fighting. Zuko was grateful for that at least.

“Did you find anything out?” he asked them. They both opened their mouths to speak then stopped. Haru shrugged and motioned for Jin to tell Zuko.

“Go ahead,” he said. “You spoke to the guy.” Zuko fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Fine,” Jin nodded. “Only one neighbor saw anything. There was a man here around the time the last message went out from Ms. Imiq’s phone. The neighbor said he was wearing a police uniform, but he wasn’t driving a marked car.” Zuko’s eyes snapped up to Jin.

“Did he see what kind of car it was?” he demanded. Jin took half a step back and blinked in surprise.

“Um...ye-yeah,” she said. She gave him model details and the color of the car.

“We have a partial plate, too,” Haru added. “The neighbor said that it stuck in his head because the last part of the plate looked like it spelled ‘dog’.” Zuko quickly typed that into his phone before he called Jun.

“Yes?” Jun greeted, sounding bored, or tired. Zuko wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care.

“Warden, it’s Detective Kaji,” he said. “I need you see if anyone working at the prison drives a car with plate number ending in -D09.” Everyone at the prison was required to record their license plate number. Zuko was sure that if his suspicions were right, Jun would be able to track the number.

“No hello?” Jun drawled. “What’s this about?”

“Koh’s struck again,” Zuko told her. The other end of the line went unnaturally silent. When Jun spoke again, she sounded more serious than Zuko thought she was capable of.

“So, he’s one of ours, then?” she sighed. “Wonderful. Give me the numbers again.” Zuko repeated himself and waited as Jun typed them into her keyboard. “We’re in luck Junior. That only matches one plate number on our records. Yon Rha. I wish I could say I was surprised. They guy always gave me a weird vibe. Like he was too happy to be here, or something.”

“Can you text me his address?” Zuko asked. “I’ll send someone over to bring him in for questioning.” Jun gave him the information.

“Good luck, Detective,” she said. Zuko ended the call grimly. Luck, she’d said. He’d need a lot of it. Haru and Jin were still nearby, and Zuko waved them over.

“I need you two to go to the address I’m going to send you,” he explained. “If Yon Rha is home, bring him in for questioning. He’s a person of interest now.” Jin nodded once and headed out.

“We’ll take my car,” Jin said. Haru followed, protesting that it would be better to take a cruiser, since neither of them were detectives.

“Detective!” Zuko spun away from the to officers to find the CSI he had been speaking to earlier rushing towards him. She was waving the baggie containing the phone around wildly.

“What happened?” Zuko asked.

“You’re going to want to see this.” She pressed a button on the side and the lock screen lit up. There was a new notification from an app that Zuko recognized as the one Katara had shown him earlier that day. It was the one she used to keep track of her running stats, and to track where she had gone.

 _Congratulations!_ It read. _You found a new running path._  
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Emergencies have a way of clearing the mind, Katara found out. Minutes after Koh had left her alone in the dark room, she managed to calm herself enough to assess her situation. Her shoulder and head ached from where she hit the concrete floor, but nothing appeared to be broken. Once she was certain of that, Katara threw herself against the back of the chair. It rocked a bit, encouraging her to try again. Then again. The fourth time she tried, she managed to flip on to her back. 

“Great!” she huffed. “Now what, Imiq?” She assessed the situation. She was still tied to the chair, but it was only duct tape. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be too difficult to rip it. If she had a free hand, or something sharp…

Katara bent upwards at her waist and tried to reach her wrist with her teeth. She couldn’t quite reach the tape, though. Only the fear that Koh might be listening nearby kept Katara from screaming in frustration. She looked around her fruitlessly, but she knew she had to find a way out. There was nothing to cut the tape with, and no way for her to use it even if she could find something. With a deep disappointed sigh, Katara let her head rest against the cold concrete floor.

There had to be something she could do, she thought. She refused to give in to the wave of frantic helplessness tightening her chest and threatening to overwhelm her. If she was going to get out of this alive, she couldn’t give into panic. Once again, Katara focused on calming her breathing. When the worst of the panic had passed, she tried the only thing that was left. She pulled hard against the tape binding her to the chair, straining her arms inward. Nothing happened at first, but she kept trying until she heard a slight rip. Katara’s head jerked up. Panting, she tried to see if she had made any progress, but the dim lighting made it impossible. Still, she tried again, pulling as hard as she could, until finally...

 _Rrrip_!

“Ooff!” Katara’s arm, suddenly free of resistance, flew in and hit her middle with bruising force. Katara was grateful, both for her freed hand, and for the fact that winding herself had made the triumphant laugh that almost escaped her throat impossible. She took a moment to catch her breath, but only a moment. Then she made quick work of the rest of the tape holding her to the chair. She scrambled to her feet and resisted the urge to kick the chair across the room. It wouldn’t do her any good to escape the chair only to call Koh’s attention to the fact that she was free. Well, freeish.

Katara stared at the door across the room. Had Koh locked it? She couldn’t remember if she had heard a lock, but surely he must have. Katara went and tried the handle. It was locked. Unsurprised, but still disappointed, Katara weighed her options. The lock looked old, and not very complex. Sokka, engineering genius that he was, had taught her how to pick a lock years ago, when she was in middle school, and she was fairly certain she could pick this one. If she had anything to pick it with. Katara ran a hand through her hair. It was still in the messy braid she had put it in earlier. No hair pins. Katara swore under her breath, and turned the main lights on. The fluorescent glow filled the room with harsh white light. The most obvious place to look for tools was Koh's work area.

Katara turned towards the makeshift surgery stage with a body jarring shudder. From where she stood, Katara could see rust colored stains on the mattress. There was no mistaking what they were. Her legs refused to move for a long few minutes.

“C'mon,” she hissed at herself. “The bed won't attack you.” Her spine stiffened with resolve and she crossed the room to the bedside tray. All of the surgical tools looked worn and dull. Katara swallowed bile rising in her throat and tried not to imagine the blunted scalpel cutting into her face. Succinylcholine would do nothing to reduce that pain. Katara shook the image from her mind.

There was nothing long or thin enough to use as a pick on the operating tray. Katara's hands itched to flip it in frustration, but her self-imposed calm held. She took another deep breath and thought a moment. If she was still in the room when Koh returned, she could at least slow him down long enough to…Katara couldn't think that far ahead. She gathered the surgical instruments on her hands and hid them in various places around the room. The drain in the middle of the room was the best spot. In went the scalpel and two probes, which made satisfying plinks on the way down to the bend in the pipe. She would have dropped all of the tools down there, but the three already down the drain left the scissor looking clamps poking out of the top, and the final tool she didn't bother trying to fit in the drain. It was a curved piece of metal that didn't seem to be made for cutting and was far too big to be useful for anything involving a face.  
Katara threw the clamps up on top of the tall shelf and tucked the last last confusing but still upsetting tool behind a heavy looking file cabinet.

That done, Katara looked around once more. There didn't seem to be much else she could do, to her chagrin. She pressed her hands to her forehead tried to think of something- anything- to get out of that room. She didn't know how long she had, but she wasn't banking on much time.

_Time!_

The thought hit Katara like a bolt. Koh hadn't taken her fit tracker, she suddenly realized. He probably hadn't even known what it was. Katara snorted derisively as she hit the sync button on the face of the device. Someone should be looking for her. She just hoped he was looking in the right place. In the meantime,if she couldn't find another way to escape, she would have to stall as long as she could.

There was nothing around that could be used as a weapon, telling Katara that either Koh was incredibly paranoid or not paranoid enough. There weren't any good hiding places, either. The lone cabinet was locked when Katara checked it. Besides, it was the most obvious place. Koh would have found her immediately. Her only advantage was surprise, and she would have to make it count.


	10. Things Break

**_Chapter 10_ **

 

 

One of the CSIs on the scene had experience in getting into locked phones, so there was no need to go to the precinct. That was absolutely fine with Zuko. He jumped in his car and lead two squad cars towards the warehouses down by the docks.

 

The notification from Katara's tracker had fanned Zuko's hope into an all consuming flame. Catching Koh had fallen from the main priority to a side benefit of finding Katara alive. As long as she was  okay…

 

Zuko's foot pressed on the peddle, though he had already taken his car to it's top speeds. His keening siren and flashing lights warned everyone ahead out of his way. Later on he would be thankful that he didn’t crash, but he didn’t consider how erratic his driving was in the moment. The squad cars following started to fall behind, but Zuko didn’t notice until he reached the docks, and realized that their sirens were in the distance. It didn’t matter, he thought. They would catch up soon enough.

 

There was a long row of warehouses along the waterfront, and three in the area where Katara's tracker had marked as her location. It had narrowed the search area considerably, but not quite enough.

 

The area was all but abandoned. There were active warehouses at the docks, but this section had been abandoned years earlier when the company that owned the buildings folded. It was, Zuko acknowledged grimly, the perfect spot to commit a murder. The closest neighbor was four or five large buildings down, and there was no reason for anyone to be curious about someone lurking around one empty building out of half a dozen. With any luck, the police wouldn’t have to search all of them. Katara's tracker had narrowed the search area considerably, but not quite enough.

The sirens were still in the distance. Zuko frowned at that. Had he actually _lost_ his back up? He unclipped his radio from his belt, his eyes scanning the darkened buildings.

“This is Detective Zuko Kaji,” he announced. “Units 27958 and 87964, do you read?” The line was silent for a moment, then crackled to life.

“This is 27958,” came the reply. “We lost you on fifth. Where are you?” Zuko growled in frustration before he pressed the button. He had _told_ them they were heading to the docks.

“Come to Pier 37,” he ordered. “Move quick, we won’t have much time once he realizes we’re here.”

“Copy that,” the officer one car replied.

“Copy,” said the other.

Then the line was silent again. Zuko drummed his fingers against his steering wheel as he counted the seconds. Inaction was chaffing to him at the best of times. Right now, it was torturous. Katara was inside one of these buildings, and he had to hope she was still alive. He didn’t have room to consider any other outcome.

Three minutes passed, and the sirens got louder, but they still hadn’t arrived. Zuko busied himself with preparations. He pulled his gun out of its holster and checked that there were bullets in the chamber. His bullet proof vest was in his locker back at the station, but he was sure he could borrow one from one of the squad cars. If they ever got there.

A flash caught Zuko’s attention. He squinted out of the windshield to confirm what he saw. It was a light from inside one of the abandoned buildings. Why, he wondered, was there still electricity in an abandoned building? Protocol said he should wait for backup, but in this situation…

The other cars had still not arrived. It was time to make a judgement call. Zuko exited the car with his gun drawn, but his finger away from the trigger. At the very least, he could look for a way into the building. When the other cars arrived, they would be able to move as quickly as possible to catch Koh- Yon Rha- and rescue Katara. That was what Zuko told himself as he slipped around the corner of the building and checked for open doors.

There was one door around the back, and fortunately for Zuko, the lock had rusted through. He winced as the door squealed. Once it was open just wide enough, he slipped inside and shut the door as carefully as possible. In the way of all old buildings, the warehouse was full of its own unique sounds. There were creaks and groans echoing through the space. Zuko hoped that it was enough to mask the sound of his entry. He made his way deeper into the dark building, looking for the light he had seen earlier. The darkness made Zuko’s progress agonizingly slow, but he didn’t dare move any faster. The last thing he wanted was to give Koh a reason to panic. Or worse, give his position away.

Sweat beaded on Zuko’s forehead in spite of the cool, damp air. Suddenly, coming in alone didn’t seem like the sound judgement call it had in the car. There was no one to watch his back, and the warehouse was a maze of crates and metal shelves behind him. The chances were very good that Koh knew the building well enough to navigate in the dark and sneak up on an intruder. Zuko yanked his mind away from that train of thought. He was inside now. The only way to go was forward. He took another few steps before-

**_WHAM_ **

**-** something hard and thin slammed into his midsection with breathtaking force. The gun clattered from his hand and went skidding across the floor into the darkness.

“ _Guuff!”_ Zuko grunted. Distantly, he heard a gasp and a metallic clatter, and then someone wrapped their arms around his back.

“ _Zuko_!” Katara hissed. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

Katara had a split second to prepare herself when she heard the door rattle and the lock click. She had shut the light off again, and was waiting in the dark when the door opened. Koh had just long enough to peer confusedly into the shadows before Katara brought the chair down on her captor’s head. He went down with a grunt, and Katara dashed past his prone form into the dark warehouse beyond. The chair wasn’t very heavy. At best she had won herself a head start to find an exit or a hiding place. At worst, she had just pissed off a serial killer. She shuddered as she ran. Behind her, the fluorescent light flickered on. Koh was back on his feet. She ducked behind a stack of crates.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish with this!” Koh yelled into the dark. “I’ll find you before you find your way out. You’re only delaying the inevitable, my dear!”

 _You say that like it’s a bad thing,_ Katara scoffed to herself. She slowly retreated deeper into the shadows, away from Koh’s advancing footsteps. She needed a weapon. It should be easier to find something to defend herself out here. She hoped.

The was a loud, but slow squealing noise from the far side of the warehouse. She heard Koh stop, then hurry away from her, back to his operating room. The light flickered off, and plunged the warehouse into complete darkness. Katara’s heart leapt into her throat. Of _course_ Koh must know his way around the warehouse in the dark. He had been there for Agni knows how long.  Katara pressed her hands to her mouth and tried to slow her breathing and her pounding heart. Her only advantage remained surprise. Koh may know his way around in the dark, but he was still human and he couldn’t see in the dark. She told herself that she could get out if she kept her head.

When she felt confident enough, Katara crept carefully along a back wall, searching either for an open door, or something to protect herself with. Her eyes were adjusting to the scant light from the high window, which made it easier to avoid the more obvious obstacles. There were footsteps on the other side of the crates where she was hiding. Koh, it seemed was back on the hunt. He wasn’t wasting time taunting her now. That didn’t seem like a good sign.

Katara’s foot hit something on the floor. It clinked along the cement floor as loud as a gunshot. Her heart stopped. Turning her ears sharply into the wooden labyrinth behind her, Katara waited for any sign that Koh had heard her. The footsteps she had heard earlier remained on the opposite side of the crates, unhurried and seemingly unaware of her presence. There was no time for relief. Katara reached down to feel for what her foot had hit. Her fingers bushed something long, cold, and rough. Pipes. Katara smiled in spite of the situation. No matter how this turned out, she would make Koh regret targeting her.

 _Be smart, Imiq,_ Katara told herself. Going out swinging randomly was a great way to wind up locked in Koh’s killing room again. She was armed now, but her priority was to get out as quickly as possible. She held the rusty pipe tightly in her grip and headed away from the direction of the room.

A tall metal shelf forced her to turn at the end of the crates. She couldn’t see beyond them, but the sense of emptiness on the other side told her that she still had a long way to get to the other side of the warehouse. That made her nervous. The longer she took to get out, the more likely she was to get caught. But she couldn’t think about that too long. She had to keep moving …

There were footsteps heading her way. Katara’s breath hitched in her chest as a scream bubbled up her throat. _How_ had Koh ended up in front of her? The footsteps were hesitant, though. Maybe, Katara thought, he didn’t know she was there. She raised the pipe up over her shoulder like a club and waited as the steps got closer…

“Ugh!” Katara grunted as she swung with all her strength. The pipe collided with something solid and someone doubled over in pain. The someone wasn’t Koh. Even in the dark, Katara could see that this new person was too short, their hair too long, and their grunt of pain sounded too young to be the man who had kidnapped her. For a horrifying moment, Katara thought Koh had a partner until the stranger tried to straighten up and Katara caught a glimpse of a dark mark over part of his face in the dim light. She gasped and dropped the pipe.

“Zuko!” she hissed. She put her arms around his shoulders both to embrace him and to try to help him upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

“Forget it,” Zuko snapped. Katara flinched away, but he grabbed her hand. He took a breath and straightened up. “I’m fine. Are _you_ okay?”

 

“I’m alive,” Katara said. “And you’re here. I’m great!”  Impulsively, Katara threw her arms around Zuko. He quickly, and absently returned the hug while he scanned the darkness beyond her.

 

“We have to get out of here,” he said. Katara stepped back and picked up the pipe.

“Agreed,” she said. She glanced around nervously. “I don’t know where he went, but he’s still here somewhere.” Zuko nodded and reach down to his holster for his gun. His hands clasped the air where his gun should have been. He swore under his breath.

 

“What’s wrong?” Katara asked.

 

“My gun is missing,” Zuko told her. Katara’s grip on the pipe tightened.  
  
“We can’t do anything about it now,” she said. She looked nervously over her shoulder. “There’s no way he hasn’t heard us.”  Zuko clenched his jaw, but nodded. Katara was right. The priority was getting out safely. Zuko told himself that a reprimand would be less humiliating than a serial killer tripping over him while he searched for his weapon.

 

“Let me have the pipe,” Zuko said. Katara passed it to him without arguing. “There should be back up when we get outside.” Katara froze when he said that.

 

“Should?” she hissed. ‘ _Should?_ Did you come in here _alone_ ? _Zuko!_ ”  

 

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he whispered back. He led the way back to the door he had entered. Katara clutched the back of his shirt, her head swiveling towards  every drip and creak she heard.

 

“Why?” she demanded. Zuko snorted and she could tell he was rolling his eyes.

 

“The cars that were following me got lost. I didn’t want to risk Koh doing something... stupid.” Katara scoffed.

 

“I think we’ve got him beat there,” she muttered. .  Zuko grunted in response and reached back for Katara’s hand.

“Let’s just go.” He led the way back towards the door he had come in through. Katara’s hand was damp with sweat and trembling slightly in Zuko’s. He laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. They were so close to getting out. He could even see the flashing lights of the other squad cars, _finally_ arrived on the scene. If he remembered correctly, the exit should be around the next corner.

Katara froze, clutching Zuko’s arm as she peered into the darkness ahead. Zuko glanced back at her with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”  he asked.

“I heard something…” she said. Zuko cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. He focused his hearing ahead of them and for a long moment, all he could hear was the drip of a far off pipe, and the shriek of sirens muffled by the heavy layer of concrete separating them from the street.

Then he heard what Katara had heard. A light scraping noise just ahead. He put Katara between him and the metal shelf behind him, and raised the metal pipe to his shoulder and waited. The scraping stopped abruptly, then suddenly the shelf behind them erupted in a deafening clanging. Katara shrieked and leapt away from the shelf, pulling Zuko back from it at the same time. She had him almost behind her, but Zuko twisted away and stood in front of her.

“It’s over, Yon Rha!” Zuko called into the darkness. “There’s no way out for you. Give up now.”

 

“So, the police found me out, huh?” The killer’s chuckled came from ahead, the same direction as the exit. “Guess this is it for me. But I think I want to finish my last project first.” Katara’s fingers clutched at the back of Zuko’s shirt. She was pulling him away from Yon Rha, though she certainly couldn’t see him any more than Zuko could.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy,” Zuko scoffed. He raised the metal pipe again.

 

“But I do,” Yon Rha said. “If this is my last hurrah, I’m going out...with a bang.” Katara understood what the click meant a split second before Zuko did.

 

“The gun!” she shouted. She tried to push him out of the way, but it was too late. The bullet hit Zuko in the chest, and he went down with a grunt. The pipe clattered to the ground beside him.

 

_No!_

 

Katara wasn’t sure if she screamed, or if the echoing cry was just in her head. Instinctively, her hands went to Zuko’s chest, trying to stop the bleeding. She had just enough time to feel the warmth of Zuko’s blood on her fingers before she was tackled from the side and slammed into the concrete floor. The breath left her lungs in a _whoosh_ , and before she could even gasp, rough, slender fingers closed around her throat. Her vision exploded with brightly colored stars as she fought for air.

 

“I hate... _grrmph_... doing it this way,” Yon Rha ground out between clenched teeth. His hands were shaking with the effort of strangling Katara.”I’m not going to get a clean cut.”  

 

His words reached Katara through a ringing in her ears. She barely understood what he was saying. Somewhere by her feet, she was aware of Zuko bleeding to death. They were both going to die here with help just outside. Katara would have sobbed if she could breathe.

 

She reached up and clawed at the hands around her throat. She could feel his flesh give way beneath her nails, but Yon Rha didn’t even loosen his grip. She tried punching him next, and connected with his chin. This time, he did let go, but only long enough to hit her back. Katara’s head bounced against the floor painfully. She had just enough time to hastily swallow a lung full of air before Yon Rha’s hands closed around her throat again.

 

 _“Don’t panic!”_ Katara heard Sokka’s voice in her head with startling clarity. She almost flinched, but she was losing the strength to do even that much. He was right, she thought giddily. She didn’t have long to act- maybe thirty seconds before she lost consciousness. Another minute before she died. She calmed herself as best she could and thought back to an afternoon the year before where Sokka and his girlfriend Suki had gotten it into their heads to teach Katara some self-defensive moves. She hadn’t practiced since then, but it was her best hope now.

 

_“Keep your elbows in tight,” Suki instructed her. Sokka grinned down at Katara, straddling her waist and hands loosely around her neck. He didn’t think she was strong enough to actually pull the move off._

 

_“I’m not going to go easy on ya,” he taunted. Katara scowled at him, and did as Suki told her. She pulled her elbows in tight, grasped Sokka’s arm just above his elbow, and clamped her other hand over his wrist._

 

_“Good form,” Suki said. “Now your left foot outside of his and your right foot in the middle of his legs, and use your weight to throw him off of you.”_

 

 _“No_ **_way_ ** _you-_ **oof** !” _Katara scrambled to her feet with a triumphant smirk._

 

 _“And_ **_that’s_ ** _how you do it every time!” Suki laughed._

 

Katara hadn’t counted on how weak lack of oxygen would make her. Her hands shook as she grasped Yon Rha’s arm, just above his elbow and grasped his wrist. She couldn’t even tell how tight her grip was. All she knew was that she had one shot. When her feet were in place, she stopped struggling for a moment while she gathered her strength. Yon Rha was caught off guard when she rolled her hips and threw him to the side. Katara scrambled to her knees and over towards Zuko, gasping for air. Yon Rha’s hand closed around her ankle as hers wrapped around the metal pipe. She rolled over and slammed the pipe over his head. He released her immediately and his hand flew to his head. Katara brought the pipe down again. And again. And again. When she finally stopped swinging, Yon Rha’s face was broken and bloodied, but he still seemed to be alive.

 

“ _Ka...Kat...ra…”_ Katara spun and dropped to her knees by Zuko’s side.

 

“Oh, no!” she whispered. “Oh, no! Oh, no!” She pressed her hands over the hole in his chest and willed the blood to stop. Zuko reached up weakly and put hand over hers.

 

“ _Radio…_ ” he managed to say. He dropped his hand, brushing it against the radio on his belt. Katara grasped at it with one hand and yanked it off. The force of it snapped the clip, but she didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared if she had. She pressed the button on the side, hoping that it would do what she needed.

 

“Hello?” Her voice was croaky and raw, her throat ached from the effort.  She tried again. “I’m on Detective Kaji’s radio. He’s been shot. Someone help!’ The radio was silent for an agonizing moment before it crackled to life.

 

“We’re coming in!” the voice on the other end said. “Is the suspect armed.” Katara shook her head. She looked over at Yon Rha. His eyes were swollen shut, and his breath gurgled behind his lips. She didn’t see where he had put the gun, but it wasn’t anywhere near his hands.

 

“He’s not armed,” she said into the radio. “Please! Zuko’s….there’s so much blood.” Somewhere behind her, the door burst open and hit the wall with a bang. Katara didn’t notice. She had dropped the radio and brought her hand back to Zuko’s chest. The warehouse floor was suddenly flooded with light as police officers bore down with guns and flashlights drawn. Someone stepped forward and cuffed Yon Rha’s twitching hands together.

 

Then there were hands on Katara’s shoulders, pulling at her. When she realized they were trying to pull her off of Zuko, she fought hard.

 

“No!” she insisted. “He’ll die! Let go of me!”

 

“The paramedics are here,” the too calm voice told Katara. She recognized it, but she didn’t know from where at first. She turned and found herself looking at Chief Iroh Kaji, the kind old man who had first taken her statement. Zuko’s uncle. Then she saw the paramedics behind him with a long orange spine board between them. She allowed Iroh to help her to her feet and move her aside so the two could transfer Zuko from the floor to the gurney. Her sore throat wouldn’t allow for sobbing, but the tears streamed down her face mixing with snot and sweat and blood. Soon Iroh was almost as covered in the mess as she was.

 

“Come on,” Iroh said gently, leading her outside. “We have to get you to the hospital, too.”  
  
“I want to ride with him,” Katara insisted. “Please let me go with him!” Iroh shook his head.

 

“He’ll be fine,” he said with a conviction that even Katara could tell he didn’t completely feel. She struggled against his grip as they loaded Zuko into the ambulance, but now the burst of adrenaline that allowed her to fight off Koh- Yon Rha- whatever his name was- had run its course, leaving Katara shaking and weak. Iroh passed her off to another team of paramedics, regarding her apologetically as he ran over to the ambulance with Zuko. Katara watched it leave, gasping and weeping, but  no longer resisting the people trying to take care of her. She was alive, and Koh had been stopped, but it wasn’t fair that Zuko should pay the cost for it.


	11. Irreparable. Unbroken.

**_Chapter 11_ **

 

 

Katara had never gone through an  emergency room as quickly as she had that night. Still, it took hours for the battery of tests to be run, at the end of which, she had been anticlimactically diagnosed with a concussion and a bruised larynx. There wasn’t much that could be done to speed the healing of either, the doctor had told her.  They would keep her for observation, then she’d be sent home by the next day at the latest.

 

 The sun was already rising by the time they brought her to a room. Unfortunately, her room didn’t seem to be anywhere near where Zuko was, and no one seemed to be interested in letting her know how he was doing. Katara let out a growl of frustration. Her doctor had left her alone to get some rest. As if she could.

 

The clothes she had arrived in were ruined, covered in grime and the blood of three different people. Someone- a nurse, Katara figured- had brought in a pair of plain grey lounge pants and a black tee shirt for when she felt strong enough to shower and get out of her hospital gown. As soon as Katara was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted, she threw her thin hospital blanket off and hurriedly pulled the clean clothes on, ignoring how dirty her skin still felt. If no one would tell her what happened to Zuko, she was determined to find out for herself.

 

“Look at me! Do I look like I give a crap about visiting hours?” Katara’s head snapped up at the sudden commotion. She rushed to the door and looked out. Sokka was at the nurses’ station down the hall. His face was red, and his hair stood up at odd angles. The duffel bag at his feet told Katara that he had come straight from the airport.

 

“Sokka,” she whispered. She couldn’t call out any louder than that. She ran to him instead. He had just enough time to turn and see her before she threw her arms around him.

 

“You’re okay!” He gasped. “You’re okay.” He pulled her into an almost uncomfortably tight hug, but Katara didn’t care. She wept onto his shoulder and babbled incoherently at him. The nurse he had been arguing with stared at them helplessly but didn’t interrupt their reunion. Sokka finally pulled back and looked Katara over. Her face was bruised at her temple and along her jaw, where she had been hit. The blow that had knocked her out had left an ugly gash by her hairline that had been stitched shut but was still leaking a bit of bloody pus.  Around her neck two hand shaped bruises had darkened to a deep purplish-blue shade. Sokka's lips flattened into a thin, angry line, and his face contorted in rage for the man who had done this to his sister.

 

“I'm okay,” Katara croaked. Something in Sokka's face broke when he heard her. His eyes filled with tears and he had to clear his throat several times before he could speak.

 

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded weakly. “You should be resting.” He put his hands on her shoulders to guide her back to her room, but then Katara remembered why she had gotten up in the first place.

 

“No!” she protested in a harsh whisper, wincing against the pain in her throat. She pulled away from his hands and faced Sokka pleadingly.

 

“What's wrong?” he asked. Katara swallowed trying to soothe some her vocal cords enough to explain.

 

“I have to find Zuko,” she said. Sokka leaned in, not certain if he had heard correctly.

 

“What…?”

 

“ _Zuko,_ ” Katara insisted as loud as she could. “I have to make sure he's okay.” Already tears pricked her eyes. Her fingers flexed remembering the way the blood had poured from his chest. She didn't think she could put that into words that would convince Sokka. Her throat hurt so much.

 

“I'm sure he's fine.” Sokka's voice was low and soothing, as if he were trying to calm an unstable person or a child. That infuriated already emotional Katara. She moved outside of Sokka's grasp. One way or another she would find Zuko.

 

“He was _dying!”_ Katara said. “No one will tell me how he is.” Sokka froze at that. He had been met at the airport by uniformed officers who escorted him to Katara at the hospital. He had been so wrapped up in getting to her that he hadn't even thought about the detective who had been protecting her.

 

“What do you mean he was dying?” he asked.

 

“He got shot,” Katara explained. “Because of me.” She gave Sokka the briefest description of the events of the day before, but Sokka understood the main part; Zuko had risked his own life for Katara's, and she wouldn't be able to rest until she knew that he had come through it. And Sokka, jet-lagged and crashing from an anxiety high, wouldn't be able to rest until Katara was resting.

 

“Alright,” he sighed. “Let's go find him.” Katara smiled gratefully. Then she glanced over Sokka’s shoulder and her face fell immediately. As she feared, her doctor had returned. This time a police officer was with him.

 

“C'mon,” she urged Sokka. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a random hall. But she wasn't quick enough. Her doctor and the officer, who Katara now recognized as Jin, spotted her.

 

“Stop!” she called after Katara. She rushed over, with the doctor close behind. Sokka, confused, obeyed Jin's order. Katara tugged hopelessly at his shirt.

 

“What are you doing?” Jin looked over Sokka suspiciously. “Who are you?” Sokka stepped in front of Katara and crossed his arms.

 

“ _I'm_ her brother,” he replied. “Who are _you_?” Jin took a step back and gave Sokka a quick respectful nod.

 

“I'm Jin Nakamura,” she said. “I'm an officer with RCPD.” She looked at Katara apologetically. “I need to take your statement.”

 

“And you should be resting,” the doctor added. Sokka glanced at Katara archly, clearly in agreement.

 

“I just want to know if Zuko's okay,” Katara pleaded with them. Jin regarded Katara sympathetically and shook her head sadly. Katara’s eyes widened.

 

“I don’t know either,” Jin said shaking her head. Katara noticed tears in Jin’s eyes. “He’s still in surgery.” Katara visibly deflated. The doctor came around to her other side, then he and Sokka guided her back to her room. She struggled half-heartedly, but Sokka was firm this time.

 

“You can’t see him in surgery,” he pointed out. “You may as well get some rest.” Katara relented.

She climbed back into her bed on her own, and after the doctor had checked her for any signs of latent brain trauma, he gave Jin the okay to speak with her. Sokka sat on the chair by the window and listened intently as Katara gave Jin all the details of the day before that she could remember. He wanted so badly to be able to find some reason- something the police could have done better to protect his sister, or a precaution to keep her safe in the future- but there was nothing she or anyone could have done. Yon Rha was law enforcement. He had the uniform, the badge, the demeanor. Katara had no reason not to trust him, and because she was alone, there was no one else to help. Sokka sighed and ran his hands over his face.

 

“Are you okay?” Katara’s voice was barely a whisper after her fifteen minute interview with Jin. Sokka pulled his chair up to her bedside.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded. Then he paused. “Actually no, I’m not. This _sucks_! Katara, you could have…” Sokka leaned forward on his knees and pressed his fists into his eyes. “I wish Mom and Dad were here.” Katara reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Me, too.” Sokka reached up for her hand and squeezed it.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Katara managed a smile at that.

 

“ _Me, too,”_ she whispered too emphatically. She started coughing, irritating her throat even further. Sokka poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table.

 

“Stop talking!” he chided. “I know that’s hard for you, but you need to give your throat a rest.” Katara scowled at him but accepted the water. When she was done, she threw the blanket off of her and got to her feet. Sokka ran around to her side.

 

“What are you doing?” he demanded. Katara waved him off impatiently.

 

“ _Zuko!”_ she insisted. Sokka shook his head.

 

“You heard Officer Nakamura,” he said. “He’s still in surgery. He probably won’t even wake up for hours.” Katara raised her chin determinedly. She was going to try anyway, her face declared. Sokka felt exhausted suddenly.

 

“Would you stop being so stubborn? Katara, you’ve been hurt, too. I’m sure Zuko wouldn’t want you wandering all over when you’re _supposed_ to be resting.”

 

“He’s right you know.” The Imiq siblings turned sharply towards the door where Iroh, still in uniform,  stood watching them with a wan, but kind smile.

 

“ _Oh!_ ” Katara gasped. She ran over and threw her arms around Iroh. The older man was surprised, but he patted her back before he guided her back to her bed.

 

“How are you, my dear?” he asked. He took in her injuries with concern, which Katara waved off.

 

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Zuko?” Sokka shook his head at Iroh.

 

“She wants to know how Detective Kaji is,” he explained. “I’m Sokka.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Iroh reached over and shook his hand. “Ms. Katara’s brother. I should have guessed. I’m Chief Iroh Kaji.” Sokka’s eyes widened at that.

 

“Zuko’s your-”

“Nephew,” Iroh finished with a nod. Sokka shifted on his feet awkwardly.

 

“I’m...I’m sorry about…” he stammered.

 

“I am, too,” Iroh sighed.  “Although I’m happy to see that you’re doing well.” He turned to Katara. “My nephew is out of surgery, but he’s lost a lot of blood. The doctors…” Iroh blinked his eyes rapidly and cleared his throat. “The doctors think that if he...if he gets through the next day or two, he’ll pull through just fine.” Katara’s eyes teared up and she wiped angrily at her eyes.

 

“Can I see him?” she asked. Iroh looked at her in surprise, and then shook his head sadly.

 

“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you visit him,” Iroh said. “But he is in ICU. The doctors are very strict about immediate family visits only. Especially when the patient is the victim of a crime.” Katara deflated. She sank back into the bed and dropped her gaze to the floor. She hadn’t gotten to thank him. If anything happened to Zuko…

 

“I’ll let you know how he’s doing,” Iroh promised. Katara looked up at Iroh. He gave her a weak smile. “I know it’s not the same, but I’ll let you know when he wakes up. And if he’s up to it, I’ll have him give you a call.”

 

“...thanks,” Katara managed to say. Iroh nodded and started towards the door.

 

“You get your rest, my dear,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

 

Zuko could feel the weight of someone's eyes on him before his were open. Sure enough, Iroh sat on the pleather seat tucked in the corner  of the hospital room he had woken up in.

 

 _That explains that stupid beeping_ **,** he thought, casting an irritated glare at the heart rate monitor. Iroh noticed his eyes were open and nearly leapt from his seat.

 

“...hey.” Zuko winced at the sound of his voice. It sounded rough and gravelly even for him.

 

“Nephew!” Iroh cried happily. He couldn’t hug Zuko without aggravating his wound. He settled for clasping his nephew’s hands instead. “You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?”

 

“Okay, I guess…” Zuko replied. “Not great. What happened? How long have I been here?” Iroh wiped away a few stray tears from his cheeks.

 

“You’ve been here almost two days,” he told Zuko. “You were shot. Koh managed to get your weapon.” Zuko’s eyes widened as some of the memories of that night came back. He shot up, startling Iroh. The machines he was attached to let out high pitched beeps in protest.

 

“Easy, Zuko,” Iroh said. He put his hands on Zuko’s shoulders and tried to get him to lay back down. “You were hurt very badly.” Zuko shook him off.

 

“What happened to Katara?” he demanded. “Is she okay?”

 

“She’s doing fine,” Iroh assured him gently. “She’s alive. She’s out of the hospital and in her brother’s care.”  Zuko sighed and sank against his pillow.

 

“Good,” he sighed. “Good.” Iroh studied him carefully.

 

“She’s a very impressive young woman,” he said. “She saved your life, you know.”  Zuko shut his eyes and nodded.

 

“What happened?” he asked. “The last thing I remember is trying to get out of the warehouse and Koh...Yon  Rha… whatever!...banging something against the shelves.”  Iroh settled back into his seat and folded his hands over his stomach.

 

“Well,” he said. “After Yon Rha shot you, he tried to strangle Katara. She managed to get him off of her- a move her brother’s girlfriend taught her, she said- and she beat him with a metal pole. Honestly, I think he was in worse shape than either of you in the end.” Despite himself Zuko let out a chuckle.

 

“So, he’s alive then?”

 

“Yes,” Iroh said. “Though he’s in an induced coma while the doctors try to salvage what’s left of his face. They think he’ll pull through, but he won’t be much to look at.”

 

“Good,” Zuko said darkly. “I’m glad he’s alive. Death’s too easy for that scumbag.”

 

“Katara agreed,” Iroh told him. “Her brother did not, however. Fortunately for everyone, Yon Rha was taken to a different hospital.” Zuko nodded.

 

“Yeah, fortunately,” he mumbled. He let his eyes drift shut, wondering if it was the drugs or the blood loss that was making him feel so tired.

 

“Katara has been very worried for you,” Iroh told him. “I think it would be nice for her to hear from you. When you’re up for it.”  Zuko’s eyes opened abruptly.

 

“Right!” he looked around for his cell phone, and once again, Iroh went over to make his nephew slow down.

 

“ _When_ you’re up for it,” he emphasized. “As anxious as she is to hear from you, I’m sure she’d rather you get your rest.” Zuko protested weakly, his limbs getting heavier by the second. Iroh added, “It’s better for her if you wait, too. She can’t speak much right now.”

 

“Fine,” Zuko relented at last. “I’ll wait.” Iroh watched him for a moment, his eyes on Zuko’s face searchingly.

 

“She’s a remarkable young woman,” Iroh commented. Zuko nodded sleepily.

 

“Yeah, she is.”

 

“Pretty, too,” Iroh added offhandedly. That caught Zuko’s attention.

 

“What?” Iroh shrugged.

 

“All I’m saying is that Katara is smart, resourceful, formidable… and very easy on the eyes. I wouldn’t blame you for having a crush.” Zuko blushed from his neck to his hairline. Iroh continued on as if he didn’t notice. “And since the case is essentially closed, there’s no ethical dilemma anymore...”

 

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko protested. “You’ve got it all wrong-”

 

“That so?” Iroh’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Well, my mistake. I should let you get your rest.” He headed for the door. “I’ll be back soon.” Zuko watched his uncle leave feeling much too mortified for sleep.

_-:-:-:-:-:-:-_

 

The next time Zuko woke up, Iroh was in his same seat, but in different clothes. Zuko frowned when he noticed.

 

“What happened?” he asked groggily. Iroh glanced up from the book he was reading.

 

“What do you mean? What happened when?” Zuko gestured towards Iroh’s clothes.

 

“What happened to your shirt?” he clarified. “You were wearing a white shirt earlier.”

 

“That was yesterday,” Iroh told him. “I’ve showered and changed since.” Zuko blinked in confusion.

 

“I slept through the whole day?”

 

“More or less,” Iroh said. “It’s no surprise. You need your rest after your ordeal.” Zuko groaned. He was supposed to call Katara.

 

“I always thought you'd do something stupid and get yourself shot someday.” Zuko and Iroh turned to the doorway. Azula leaned against the frame and surveyed the room with disdain.

 

“Azula!” Iroh reacted first. He approached his niece with his arms half outstretched before he seemed to think better of it. He took her hands instead and squeezed him gently. Azula submitted briefly, then shook herself loose.

 

“Uncle,” she greeted him with a polite nod. Her eyes ran over Iroh critically before landing meaningfully on his middle.  “You're looking... prosperous.” Zuko scowled at her, but Iroh just laughed and patted his rotund belly.

 

“Yes, I suppose I have gained a few pounds since we last saw each other. Desk duty will do that. But it's happy weight.” Iroh's eyes softened as he scanned his niece. “It has been far too long since I've seen my favorite niece. Did you get the card I sent you for your birthday?”

 

“I did,” Azula confirmed. She stepped into the room and perched on the chair. “So, how did this happen?”

 

Zuko looked at his uncle, affronted on his behalf. Iroh smiled and motioned for him to speak up.

 

“It's...a long story,” Zuko mumbled.

 

“And it's one I have heard many times,” Iroh said. “I think I'll make a quick coffee run. Zuko can't have any right now on doctor’s orders. But would you like one, Azula?”

 

“A large caramel latte with rice milk.” She spared half a glance at Iroh. Again, Zuko felt a stab of annoyance through his chest. Or maybe it was the bullet wound. Either way, he seemed to be alone in the  feeling.

 

“As you wish, my dear,” he said. “I'm sure you two have some catching up to do.” Iroh waved at the siblings and left with surprising speed.

 

“As subtle as ever,” Azula commented when he'd gone.

 

“And as doting,” Zuko said pointedly. Azula shrugged and examined her nails.

 

“Well, I guess it's a comfort to have _someone's_ kids to spoil.” Zuko's scowl was back.

 

“Why are you here ,Azula?” His sister glanced at him archly.

 

“My only brother gets shot and is surprised that I visit?” Azula pouted theatrically. “I was worried, Zuzu.”

 

“First of all,” Zuko said holding up first one  finger. ”Stop calling me that.” Then another. “Second, I've been in the hospital for three days, and you haven't even called.”

 

“I said I was worried.” Azula shrugged. “I didn't say I wasn't busy.” Zuko snorted.

 

“Why are you here?” he asked again. Azula sighed and settled back into her chair.

 

“I came to make sure you're okay.”

 

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” Zuko said. He eyed his sister suspiciously. She had never visited him in the hospital. Not when he had his tonsils removed. Not when he had to be hospitalized with the flu. Not when he had been burnt in the fire that killed their mother. Zuko was sure there was something else going on.

 

“Honestly,” Azula huffed. “You’d think _I_ was the one who’d shot you.” Zuko fought the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Alright,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s very nice of you to visit me with no ulterior motives.” Azula sniffed haughtily.

 

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat awkwardly and glanced around the room. “I see they gave you a private room. Good.” Zuko grunted noncommittally. “You’ve been all over the news, you know. **_Hero cop saves co-ed,_** or whatever. It’s caught Mai’s eye. She’s asking about you again.”

 

“Great…” Zuko mumbled. Whether it was about the news coverage or Mai, he wasn’t really sure. “She saved _me_ , actually.”  Azula looked up at Zuko curiously.

 

“ _Did_ she?” she asked. “What happened in there anyway?” Zuko stared at Azula, trying to work out what, if anything, was her motive in asking. Then he sighed and shrugged.

 

“Like I said, it’s a long story.”

 

“I’ve got time.” Zuko decided there was no real harm in Azula hearing the broader details, so he told her. As a reward, he got to see Azula genuinely enthralled in his story, something that hadn’t happened since they were very young children. When he told her how Katara managed to get the best of Yon Rha and leave him comatose, she actually laughed.

 

“I’m impressed with this girl,” she said. “The news coverage isn’t doing her justice at all. They made her sound like some helpless damsel in distress.”

 

“She’s anything but that,” Zuko snorted. “And after all this, I would never bet against her in a fight.” Azula smirked at him.

 

“Interesting,” she said. Zuko’s guard was back up immediately.

 

“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. Azula shrugged.

 

“Oh, nothing,” she replied in a tone that said it definitely wasn’t nothing. But Zuko was feeling tired again. He needed to speak to his doctor about whatever pain medication he was on. He didn’t like the constant battle to stay awake.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered. The two settled into a silence that wasn’t quite awkward, but not quite comfortable either.

 

“I did come here for another reason,” Azula admitted. Zuko smirked at her.

 

“I knew it,” he said. “What do you want, Azula?” She sat up straight and crossed her legs.

 

“To make you an offer,” she told him.

 

“ _Offer…_ ”Zuko scoffed. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“I want you to come to work at Sozin,” she said. “As a consultant.”  Zuko rolled his eyes. He wished he could get up and walk away, but he was still hooked up to several wires.

 

“I already _have_ a job,” he reminded her. “This hasn’t changed my mind.”  Azula scowled at him.

 

“It’s _just_  a consulting gig,” she said. “I'm not asking you to leave your precious police work forever. They're going to put you on leave anyway, aren't they? Isn’t that the standard practice? At least this way you won't be bored.”

 

“Azula…”

 

“I'm offering you an executive salary for _maybe_ six months of work!” Azula persisted. “You could afford to take that waitress somewhere really nice.” Zuko sputtered.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Oh,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. “Did I read that wrong? You only took a bullet for her.”

 

“I'm a detective,” Zuko drawled. “That's kind of my job.”

 

“Yes, but she saved you, too. She took on an armed serial killer for you and stuck around to help you when she probably should have just run. And I can tell you like her.”

 

“How could you possibly tell anything about me? We barely speak.” Azula didn't rise to the bait. She shrugged and settled into the chair.

 

“You're not too hard to read,” she informed him. “It'd be obvious to anyone paying even a little bit of attention” Zuko dropped his gaze to the stark white hospital sheets and scowled. His face was  heating up to his chagrin.

 

“Whatever…” he grumbled. He dragged his hand across his cheek. He _really_ needed a shave, he realized. “What does any of that have to do with me taking this job?”

 

“It's your chance to make enough money to take her someplace nice. Maybe an actual restaurant where they don't have placemats you can color on. Even if this girl doesn't turn out to be the one, you could have a nice nest egg.”

 

“Azula, I'm not exactly hurting for money. I’ve got a trust fund, too. It's not as big as yours, but between that and my salary, I'm doing _just_ fine. And I would never go out with _another_ girl who likes me for money and connections. Remember how that turned out?” Azula shrugged carelessly.

 

“Mai can't help it,” she said. “That's how she was raised. Not _everyone_ can cut ties with their family and past as completely as you and Uncle.” She sighed and wrapped her fingers tightly around the armrests. “Would you do it as a personal favor to me?” Zuko's brow shot up in surprise. Azula as a rule never asked for favors.

 

“I'm listening,” he prompted her.

 

“I'm firing Zhao,” Azula told him quietly. That caught Zuko's attention.

 

“ _Really_?” Azula nodded.

 

“It's going to cause some major waves, and piss off some people powerful enough to make trouble for me. I need you to help make this as smooth as possible. You're good with this kind of minutiae.”

 

Zuko studied his sister for a long moment. She looked stressed beneath her cool exterior. Her posture was just a little too straight. Her face a bit sharper than normal, as if she hadn't been eating regularly. Was this, Zuko wondered, Zhao's effect on her?

 

“I'll help you,” Zuko relented at last. Azula's head shot up. Zuko held up his hand. “I'm not finished. I have two conditions.”

 

“What do you want?” Azula asked.

 

“First, I want you to bring the company above board,” Zuko said. “I'll do an investigation on the shady suppliers Ozai and Zhao worked with. If they're dirty, you cut them loose.”

 

“But that'll cut into the profits!” Azula protested. Zuko was firm though.

 

“Between the two of us we can find new suppliers. I'll make space in the budget if I have to.”

 

“Alright, fine.” Azula folded her arms and scowled. “What's your other condition?”

 

“No drinking while I'm working for you.” Azula scoffed at that.

 

“Am I a child?” she snipped. “I can handle my liquor.” Zuko folded his arms, unmovable.

 

“It's not like I'm asking you to give it up for good,” he said. “Six months, tops. Right? You can go without a drink for that long.” Azula glared at home for a long while

 

“Of course I can,” she said coldly. “I don’t appreciate you implying that I have a drinking problem.”  

 

“The last time we saw each other, you got drunk and passed out on my couch,” Zuko reminded her. “If that was a one off, fine, but you’ve been pulling stunts like that since high school. You can’t blame me if I’m concerned.”

“You said yourself that we don’t see each other often,” Azula pointed out. “Those _were_ one offs.” Zuko shrugged.

 

“Then six months of mocktails and coffee will be a breeze,” he said. “Those are my conditions. Take them or leave them.” Azula scowled as she got up from the chair and crossed the room.

 

“Deal,” she agreed. She stuck out her hand for Zuko to shake. “We’ll figure out your start date once you’re out of...this place.” Azula cast another distasteful glance around the hospital room.

 

Azula stayed just long enough to accept her coffee from Iroh, and then with cool, but polite goodbye to her uncle and brother, she left less than an hour after she had arrived.

 

_-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-_

 

Zuko wound up staying just one more day in the hospital. He still hadn’t called Katara, Iroh reminded him on the ride back to Zuko’s home. He had insisted he didn’t need to stay with Iroh, as his doctor hadn’t enforced bedrest for his recovery.

 

“She understands, of course,” Iroh said.  “Still, it would be a nice gesture.” Zuko agreed. Iroh had soon left him in his apartment, with enough pre-made food and tea to last him a year, and a promise to drop by in a few hours to check on him. When he was gone, Zuko plugged in his phone and called Katara. The phone rang straight through to voicemail, but the inbox was full. Zuko sighed and hung up. He hated leaving messages anyway. Besides, he reasoned, after everything, it would be better to see her in person. Iroh wouldn’t be back until later, so he had time. That was how less than ten minutes after his uncle had gone, Zuko found himself in his car on his way to Katara’s house.

 

Zuko regretted his choice the minute he knocked on the door. This was absolutely a mistake. A huge mistake. Katara hadn't _actually_ wanted to see him. Of course she hadn't.  Zuko couldn't blame her. After all, the last time she had seen him, she was being held captive by a crazed serial killer and he hadn’t been able to rescue her. He had needed her to rescue _him_ **.** All she had wanted was confirmation that he had survived the ordeal. But the door opened before he could retreat, and he was greeted by a man he only recognized by voice.

 

“Hey,” Sokka greeted him, confused and a bit guarded. “Can I help you?” Zuko shifted uneasily on his feet. _What_ had possessed him to come?

 

“Hi,” he said hesitantly. “I’m-” Then Katara poked her head out of the kitchen.

 

“Zuko…” she gasped. Then to his- and her brother's- surprise, Katara flew across the room and threw her arms around his neck. Sokka blinked and fell back a few steps. Katara either didn't notice or care. Zuko was too stunned to react, but he managed to hug her back after a moment.

 

“Oh, you're alive,” she whispered. “You're okay.” She pulled back after a moment, but her arms were still draped over his shoulders, so he felt alright leaving his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

 

“I'm fine,” he assured her. Katara still scanned him, coming back to his eyes to look for...what Zuko wasn't sure.

 

“I wanted to visit you,” she told him. “I tried. But they only let family in ICU.”  That had never seemed like a ridiculous rule to Zuko before, but now he questioned it. Had Katara been left in the dark for this whole time? No, he reminded himself. Iroh had been in touch with her. Still, he thought, he wouldn't have minded waking to find her keeping vigil at his bedside.

 

“They let me go today.” Zuko wanted to smack himself in the forehead. She could _see_ that. Why couldn't he think of anything intelligent to say? “I...I tried to call earlier, but there was no space in your voicemail…” Katara waved him off.

 

“I had to turn off the phone,” she explained. “Reporters have been hounding me since I got home. I would have called _you_ , but I wasn't sure if you were out of the hospital yet. And…well, today is the first day my voice sounds half-way normal.”

 

“Oh... yeah.” Zuko made a note to call the local papers.

 

“I'm glad you're okay,” Katara said with a smile. Then her eyes widened with horror and she jumped away from him. Zuko felt his face heat up, and an apology had already formed on his lips for holding  on to her for so long, when she apologized first. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“Um...what?” Zuko asked shaking his head. Katara pointed to his chest, where the bullet had struck him.

 

“I just jumped on you,” she explained. Her cheeks had darkened to a dusky red. “I didn't pull on any stitches or anything, did I?” Zuko almost laughed. He shook his head.

 

“I'm fine, honestly. A bit sore,” he admitted, “but it's not your fault.”  Katara lifted her hand, as if she were going to lay it over the wound, but she dropped it quickly.

 

“I'm so glad you're alright,” she whispered again. Zuko wished he could ignore Sokka standing off to the side, but he was all too aware of him watching the exchange with obvious interest.

 

“I …” he started, making a valiant effort to pretend they didn't have an audience. “I wanted to thank you. You saved my life.” Katara stared up at him with her wide, impossibly blue eyes, and Zuko noticed tears. He nearly panicked. What had he done wrong?

 

“I should be thanking _you_ ,” she told him. Zuko was stunned. He had _failed to_ protect her, a point which the stitches and bruising on her face, and the handprints on her neck drove painfully home.  Sure, she had survived, but that was in large part due to her own quick thinking. He decided it wasn't worth arguing, so he shrugged and mumbled something non-committal. Katara took a step back and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. She seemed to finally realize that Sokka was still there.

 

“We just ordered takeout,” she said suddenly. “You should stay for lunch. Right, Sokka?” She turned to her brother for back up.

 

“Sure,” he said. “Honestly, it’s the _absolute_ mathematical least we can do.” He turned and headed for the kitchen, casting a significant look at Zuko. “Anyway, I’m going fix myself a plate. Feel free to stick around.”

 

“Actually,” Zuko declined somewhat reluctantly. “I...my uncle’s expecting me soon. Um… well, he’s expecting me to be at my place...he’s dropping by. I just wanted to…”  To what, Zuko asked himself. To see her? Tell her he was okay? Make sure _she_ was okay? All were equally true. All were equally embarrassing now that he was here facing her.

 

“Oh…” Katara nodded as if she understood. The look of relief had not left her face. Zuko heard Iroh's words from earlier echo in his mind. After all, the case _was_ essentially closed.

 

 _Well_ **,** he thought. _Why not?_

 

“Would you...ah…,” he stammered. He took a deep breath and tried again.  “Wouldyouliketohavecoffeewithmesometime?”

 

It came out in a rush. Katara had to run it over in her mind a couple of times before she understood. Zuko very nearly ran off before she could respond. Fortunately for both of them, the still healing wound in his chest kept him from making any move so sudden. He had started to move backward, but Katara caught him by the hand.

 

“I know a really nice spot in midtown,” she told him hopefully. Zuko blushed when she smiled.

 

“Sure!” he said just a bit too quickly. A bit too high pitched. He thought he heard a quiet laugh from the kitchen.

 

“You still have my number.” It was less a question and more of an assumption on Katara's part. Zuko confirmed mutely. _Oh!_ He hoped he was coming off more suave than he felt at the moment.

 

“I'll call you later,” he promised. Katara's smile widened and warmed. Zuko wondered if he'd ever get tired of her smile. He didn't think he would, but he hoped he'd know her long enough to find out.

  
“ **Ahem!** ’ Sokka poked his head out of the kitchen and cleared his throat reminding them that he was still there. “So are we feeding this guy or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that it, folks. That's the end. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And please, follow me for more stories if you did!


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